The Dawn of Three
by dianasaur97
Summary: Our beloved detective duo befriend Mrs. Hudson's flat-sitter, Jamie McConnell, while she is away on holiday. Set after AsiP, and follows the show. Slight AU, but not drastic. Rated T for swearing.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Adventures always start when you meet someone special. Maybe they have striking features, like height or hairstyles, or maybe they have a captivating personality. Some even have way, you're hooked. You can't ever leave that life behind, and you can't ever forget the exciting things that happen to you. Mundane tasks like walking down a long hallway or browsing through a selection of clothes becomes completely unbearable. Your mind will always wander back to the exciting things that could be happening to you in that very moment. Meeting that one special person could be the worst possible thing to happen to you, but it could also be the greatest experience ever.

A dear old lady that my mother had been friends with for years had asked me to housesit for her for a few weeks while she escaped from the constantly dripping London sky for a tropical paradise. I told her I would because I didn't have anything better to do. She instructed me to water her potted plants and clean-up after myself and she gave me free rein to the fridge and telly. "Now, dear, if those boys upstairs give you any trouble, I want you to head to the basement flat. There's a couch and blanket down there, and you might want to bring a good book. Sherlock, the tall, pale one, knows how to pick a lock, so you might want to jam a chair under the door handle. I don't expect you to have any problems with them, and John is a real sweetheart. He usually keeps Sherlock under control," Mrs. Hudson sighed as she carried her massive bag out of the door to 221A.

"Yes, ma'am,"

"But, if they do give you trouble, don't hesitate to escape. Sherlock can be a real nightmare. He's more like a child with a massive intellect than an adult," she said with a bright smile. I listened to the cab pull up out front and she started moving towards it. "Oh, and Jamie, the boys have a key to my flat, so make sure you lock the bedroom door at night. Sherlock has no concept of normal day and night cycles. He hardly sleeps, so just be wary," she called. I nodded vigorously and catalogued that information for later. I moved towards her and waited until she finished jamming her bag into the trunk of the cab before hugging her small frame. "Be careful," I said softly.

"Oh, I will, dear," she said with a giggle. I nodded and let her go. I moved to open the door for her and watched her climb in. "Have a nice trip, and I'll be waiting with baited breath for your return," I said with a soft smile. She grinned back, and I shut the door. We shared a wave and I watched the cab pull out into the bustling London traffic. I stood for a moment before turning and heading back indoors. I glanced up the stairs to my left before heading into 221A.

The flat was comfortably small. The perfect size for a little old lady. The kitchen had an outside door, and I went ahead and jammed a chair into it. I then went to hunt for food in the fridge. I immediately grabbed the tub of Rocky Road ice cream she had left for me and a spoon before heading into the living room. I turned on the telly and set it to a crappy show. I excavated my first massive glob of creamy deliciousness and began licking it off the spoon. The couch was comfortable, and I wound up making a blanket nest and hugged the tub of ice cream to my chest. "Oh, come on! She's obviously pregnant! Just look at her clothes! You can see the stretching," I screamed at the telly. I slammed the tub and spoon down on the little table and pulled the blankets over my head. I stayed burrowed for several moments before reappearing and gouging out more ice cream. I continued to watch until the tub of ice cream was half empty, and then i went and shoved it back into the freezer. I had a blanket slung up around my shoulders like a cape, and I could hear the splatters of raindrops hitting the window on the back door. "Why does it always have to rain?" I muttered miserably.

I headed back to the couch and curled back up on my side, facing the telly. Another show had come on, and this one was slightly more bearable. I could smell the Apple Orchard scented candle that was across the room. It reminded me of the hours my mum and I would spend gathering apples in the fall. I usually ate most of them by the next weekend, and we would have to make another trip. The awful noise coming from the telly brought me back from my memories. The cable had gone out and the white noise coming from the speakers gave me a headache. I turned the telly off and stayed in comfortable silence for a moment. The rumble of thunder could be heard, and I decided to go into the bedroom. I dragged a dining room chair into the room with me and rammed it under the door handle, too. The bed was large and there were several blankets piled on top of it. The walls were painted a comfortable shade of yellow and the floors were wood paneled. I pulled off my socks and climbed under the mountain of blankets. The sun had just barely began to sink below the sky, but I was exhausted. I fell asleep quickly to the sound of the rain.

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"John! Where on Earth did you put my skull!?" a male voiced shouted from the floor above. My eyes popped open and the room was dark. I listened to the banging and crashing coming from the flat upstairs for several moments. "I didn't touch it, Sherlock," another male voice said impatiently. I crawled out from under the blankets and went to open the door. I listened to more shouts and bangs from upstairs while I glanced through Mrs. Hudson's collection of books. She had many classic novels, and I immediately lifted _The Grapes of Wrath _by John Steinbeck off the shelf. I then shuffled into the kitchen to make some popcorn. The banging had migrated to over the kitchen, and his constant shouting and shuffling was irritating me. "He has three more minutes before I go up there and break his nose," I muttered to myself.

"John! I need my skull!" Sherlock shouted. I sighed and pulled my popcorn from the microwave, then immediately dumped it into a large plastic bowl. The buttery fumes soothed my irritated nerves and helped to calm me. I tuned out Sherlock's frantic search and sunk into the novel I had chosen. An hour later, the banging stopped and I sighed in relief. I knew i would have to go up there and introduce myself eventually, but Sherlock seemed so insufferable. I sighed and mentally prepared myself to climb the stairs. I had fallen asleep in a pair of cut-off sweat pants and a spaghetti strap tank-top. The clothes were comfortable, but I pulled on an old ACDC shirt over my tank-top anyways. I pulled on a pair of socks and left the flat. I didn't bother shutting the door, and went to go lock the main door to the building. I rebraided my copper colored hair while ascending the old peeling stairs. They creaked softly underneath my feet, and I listened to the silence within the flat. Once I reached the top of the stairs, I took a deep breath and blew it out while I knocked on the door. I waited for a few moments and fiddled with the ribbon on the end of my braid. The door opened and a short, baby-faced man with bright eyes and a kind grin opened the door. "Hello," he said cheerily.

"Hi there, I just wanted to introduce myself. I'm Jamie, and I'm staying in Mrs. Hudson's flat while she's away," I said with a returning smile.

"Well, come in, I'll make some tea," he said quickly and opened the door wider. I glanced at him before entering the flat. The room was chaotic. I stood awkwardly in the middle of the floor and looked around. I could see the aftermath of Sherlock's frantic search for his skull. "Go on and have a seat, Jamie," John called from the kitchen. I looked at the source of his voice before shuffling towards the couch. I sat and fiddled with my ribbon and chewed on my bottom lip. My stomach was twisted in painful knots with nerves, and I was holding back my hyperventilation. I took a deep breath, but it did not help to steady my nerves. John reemerged from the kitchen carrying two mugs of tea. He handed one to me and settled on the couch beside me. "I'm sure you know this already, but I'm Dr. John Watson," he said with a lopsided smile before sipping his tea.

"Jamie McConnell," I replied and stuck my hand out. He shook it briefly before sipping some more tea. "Why'd you decide to move in here?" I asked after a moment of silence.

"Nobody else would want me for a flatmate," he responded immediately.

"Why not?"

"Well I was an Army doctor, so I have bad days," He answered vaguely. I nodded briefly before fiddling with my thumbs. "Sherlock! Get in here and meet our new neighbor!"John shouted suddenly, startling me. I glanced at him and saw his apologetic smile. I reached for my tea after returning a small smile and took a sip. It tasted very homey and comfortable. I set my cup back down and watched a tall man walk into the room. He looked sickly and had a mop of dark curls. His eyes were cold and calculating as he mentally analyzed me. I could see the gears spinning in his mind. The color of his eyes were the most striking. They were a strange blend of shifting grays and blues. "Hello," I said with a small smile. My voice had grown very small from my inner panic. John glanced at the man before shifting his gaze back to me. "You must be Jamie McConnell, Mrs. Hudson asked you to stay here while she was away," he said in a snide way as he flung himself into one of the chairs next to the fireplace.

"Yes," I said in an even smaller voice.

"I'm Sherlock Holmes. Consulting Detective," he said after a moment.

"What's a 'Consulting Detective'?" I blurted out.

"I invented the job. The police come to me when they can't handle a case- which is always," he explained impatiently. We fell into silence and I picked up my tea and took another sip. It had gone cold, but I didn't mind. I set the cup back down and rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands. "You okay?" John asked touching my shoulder.

"Oh, yes, I woke up not too long ago. Sorry," I said and dropped my hands to my lap.

"Did I wake you?" Sherlock asked suddenly.

"Yes,"

"I was looking for Billy, my skull," he muttered and drummed his fingertips on the armrests of his chair.

"I heard," I said softly.

"Well, we were just about to order some take-out, would you like to join us?" John offered with a lopsided grin in my direction.

"Thank you, but I'm not hungry. Just had popcorn," I said with a small smile.

"Well you're welcome to stay either way. Sherlock, are you going to eat?" John said and then turned to the man curled up in his chair.

"I don't eat when I'm on a case,"

"But we don't have a case," John said softly.

"Fine, John. I'll eat whatever you don't," Sherlocked said with a huff. John smiled, pleased with himself, and stood to gather his coat and shoes. "Jamie, would you like to come with me?" John asked while pulling his coat on.

"Sure, John. I'll meet you outside," I said before darting out of the flat and down the stairs as fast as my socked feet could carry me. I slammed the door of 221A and spun around in circles to attempt to expel my nerves. I hunted for my trainers and jumper. It was a thick green thing, and it would easily block the wind. My trainers were all black, even the laces. I pulled all of my clothes on and then found my gray beanie. I glanced in the mirror in the bathroom before stuffing my wallet and the keys to the flat in the front pocket of my hoodie. I headed out of 221A and shut the door behind me. I walked out of the main door of the building and saw John standing outside with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He held out his elbow for me to take and then led the way down the street. "What do you do for a living?" John asked after a moment of comfortable silence.

"I'm a bartender at Skippy's," I replied and glanced over at him.

"I used to go there often back in my younger days," John said with a grin.

"It's funny, because I'm an English major, but I wound up pouring drinks for the local slobs," I said.

"Well, bartending is pretty interesting. You must meet a lot of new people,"

"Yes, and I also have a lot of regulars. They all know me by name, and I have yet to learn what their favorite drinks are," I muttered.

"Well, maybe I'll come spend time there while you're working one night. I can't say anything for Sherlock though,"

"That would be nice," I said as we approached the store front of the restaurant John enjoyed. John held the door open for me, and when I stepped inside my senses were immediately assaulted by the smells of cooking food. The lights were dim, but there were bright pockets of neon lights in the corners of the room. The dining area was tastefully designed, and very practical. "I'll wait here, you go ahead and order, John," I said while moving to sit at an empty table next to the door.

"Are you sure you don't want anything?" John asked.

"Yes, I'm sure," I said as I maneuvered myself into a comfortable position. John headed up to the counter and ordered from an older asian woman. She had a kind smile and wrinkles gathered around her eyes and mouth. John came back towards me to wait for his food. He settled into the chair opposite me and looked out the large windows. "Do you miss the war, John?" I asked suddenly.

"Yes, how did you know?" he said softly with a sideways glance at me. I fiddled with my braid and chewed my lip. "My mum used to tell me old war stories that my father told her. My father wasn't afraid of the war, he was addicted to it. The excitement, the never ending fear, the adrenaline. I realized that most veterans miss the war. It changes you, John," I replied my gaze on his face, judging his reactions.

"Your father was very smart, and very right. I do miss it. I grew addicted to the excitement. It was probably the best thing that ever happened to me when I met Sherlock," John said with a brief smile.

"Why's that?"

"When you walk with Sherlock Holmes, you see the battlefield. It's very exciting, and very nerve wracking. I hope you'll get to see that, too," John said slowly with his gaze locked onto mine. I nodded slowly and looked up as the kind lady from the counter carried John's order to our table. John gave her a grin and stood from the table. He stuck his elbow out to me and I immediately took it. I opened the door and gave the nice lady a wave while John shuffled out onto the sidewalk. We set course for Baker Street.

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When we walked into 221B, the sound of violin playing could be heard from their flat upstairs. "He's bored," John sighed softly.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"That's a dangerous thing. Help me find a way to distract him," John pleaded.

"I have paint downstairs, we can spread sheets in the basement flat and make a huge mess. After you both eat, of course," I suggested.

"We'll have to find some sheets then," John said with a happy grin. John and I walked into the open door of their flat and I glanced at Sherlock's silhouette. He looked even more sickly and mysterious. "We're back," John said softly.

"I heard," Sherlock answered and turned to look at us. He was in a midnight blue dressing gown that was open to show a white shirt and ratty pants. John headed towards his chair, and I went to sit on the floor with my back leaning up against Sherlock's chair. John pulled out his food and began eating quietly. "Sherlock?" I asked after a moment of watching John pick at his food. He turned his gaze to me and tipped his eyebrow up at me. "Would you like to paint with John and I?" I asked with a small smile.

"Paint?" he said in a snide manner.

"Yeah, I have paint downstairs. Mrs. Hudson left it for me,"

"That seems like a silly waste of time," he muttered.

"You'd enjoy it," I insisted. He stared at me like I had two heads. "Please, Sherlock?" John piped in. He had been watching the exchange for several minutes while he ate.

"Fine, just stop your begging," he muttered with a glare at John. He walked over to the couch and curled up on his side with his face pressed into the back of the sofa. John and I fell silent, but I kept my gaze locked onto Sherlock's back. "I'm going to go set up," I said after a moment. John nodded, his mouth full of food, and Sherlock remained silent. I stood from my spot on the floor and headed down the stairs to 221A. I quickly found old sheets and went to unlock the door to 221C. I immediately turned on the light to the stairwell and headed down. It took me less than half an hour to spread out the sheets and set up the paint cans in the middle of the floor. I opened the lids and stirred the paint with the wooden sticks. I made sure to hang the sheets up the walls and all over the floor. The room looked like a padded cell. Satisfied with the set-up, I headed back up the stair to retrieve the boys.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Sherlock was picking at the rest of John's food when I walked back into their flat. John was typing away on his computer, and he seemed incompetent in that area. "John, you might wanna go change into some old clothes that you aren't particularly fond of. You too, Sherlock," I said after settling myself on the couch. John stood from the computer and shut the lid. He headed off towards his room without a glance in our direction. Sherlock watched me for a moment, and finished picking at John's leftovers. "I'll meet you both downstairs," I muttered before rising from my spot on their couch and walking down the stairs. I opened the door to 221C and descended that staircase as well.

I didn't have to wait long for them to appear. John was in a pair of exercise shorts and a short sleeved shirt. Sherlock wore his bedpants and a white undershirt. He glared pensively around the room for a moment before settling his gaze on me. "I like to use my hands, but there are brushes upstairs on the table if you would like to use one," I said as I tugged off my trainers and socks. I carried them over to the corner of the room and hid them behind a sheet. I then tugged off my jumper and ACDC shirt. I glanced over at the boys to see John staring with a small smile and Sherlock glancing around the room. "Well go ahead," I muttered as I headed towards a can of green paint. I stuck my hand in and walked over to a wall. I used my hands to outline the shape of a forest on the sheet. I wound up with paint slung all over my clothes after several minutes. I turned around to see the boys staring at me. The other two walls were bare. "Come here, John," I sighed after a moment. He grimaced and moved towards me. I grabbed his hand in my green one and pulled him towards the paint. "Which is your favorite?" I asked softly.

"Red," he sighed. I grinned and pushed his hand into the can and stuck my own hand in the yellow. I then pulled him over to the wall I was working on and showed him where to add his colors. "See? It's fun," I insisted.

"You're right," he said with a brief laugh. I rubbed green paint on his cheek and danced back over to the paint. "Your turn, Sherlock," I said with a pointed stare in his direction. He scowled at me before shuffling in my direction. He stuck his hand in the blue paint and watched me stick my yellow hand in the red. "You just ruined that," he muttered.

"No I didn't, I made a new color," I sighed and lead the way over to the sheet. He stared at me incredulously with his blue hand dripping on the sheet below us. I grabbed his wrist in my green hand and used his blue to add the sky. He watched me out of the corner of his eye before taking control of his own hand. I smiled and backed away as he stretched to reach the top of the leaves I had painted before. John finished with the trunks of the trees and stepped back to stand beside me. "Wow," he said softly, in awe. Sherlock ignored us as he continued to paint with his long fingertips. "You have a beautiful vision," John said to me with a gentle smile.

"I know," I said with a lopsided grin in his direction. Sherlock finished with the sky and stood on my right to admire our work. He remained silent and I watched him appraise our work out of the corner of my eye. "Can we do this again?" John asked after a moment of silence.

"I can leave the sheets up, just make sure someone closes the paint cans," I replied. I headed back to the paint and stuck one hand in blue and the other in yellow. I then headed back to a blank space on the wall and made a large peacock feather. I stepped back and rubbed my chin with my blue hand and muttered "Ah, damn," softly. I used my bicep to get the paint off my face and sighed. I could hear John and Sherlock working on their own art behind me. I glanced at their work and smiled. John had began to paint a bouquet of flowers and Sherlock had painted a violin. "Nice work. I'm going to go shower and head to bed. Make sure you close the paint cans before you leave," I announced before heading up the stairs.

After a shower, I was curled up in a bra and panties underneath the pile of blankets on Mrs. Hudson's bed. I hugged my knees to my chest and sighed contentedly. Mrs. Hudson was right about John and Sherlock. John was a sweetheart, and his personality was very comforting. Sherlock was cold and calculating. He was more machine than animal. It was intriguing to see his mind working, it was almost like a freight train spinning off the track. I felt that it would be terrifying if he ever lost control. I understood immediately when John said that Sherlock's boredom was dangerous. I yawned loudly and snuggled deeper into the pillow. I fell asleep easily after that.

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I woke up late in the afternoon the next day. The building was silent and I shuffled around the flat in my underwear. I found a dressing gown and pulled on a pair of long socks. After pulling the gown closed I walked down into the main room of 221C. I yawned halfway down the stairs, and when i reached the bottom I immediately found Sherlock. He was curled up on the floor in the corner of the room with his head on my clothes. The paint cans were closed and I could see green paint swathed on Sherlock's forehead and into his hair. I smiled softly and huffed out a small laugh. Sherlock looked much more kind in his sleep. His hair was mussed in a silly fashion and his usually glaring face was relaxed. I walked over to him and bent down to push his shoulder. He inhaled sharply and opened his eyes to glare at me. "Good morning," I said as I backed away. He sat up and glanced around. "John?" he asked slowly, his tired mind immediately pulling the most important thing forward.

"I haven't checked on him, yet. He must be upstairs in bed," I said quietly. He lifted his hand to rub his face, but it was stained blue and red and yellow. "Come on, you," I sighed and pulled on his arm. He stood slowly and stared at me while I dragged him upstairs to his flat. "Go shower, I'll make you both breakfast," I ordered as I headed off towards the kitchen. I listened to Sherlock shuffle down the hall to his room and shut the door. I went to check on John, and saw him buried in his sheets with green paint on his temple. "John, wake up," I said as I walked into the room. He grunted and rolled away from me. "John, I'm making breakfast," I said in a singsong voice. His eyes popped open and he rolled to look at me. "You find Sherlock?" he asked after a yawn.

"Yes, he was asleep in 221C," I said as he climbed out of bed. He pulled on a dressing gown and followed me out of his bedroom. "Would you like to help me?" I asked as we entered their kitchen.

"Sure," he said softly. I directed him towards the stove and set a pan with bacon in front of him. I worked on the eggs at the counter beside him. After they were sufficiently beaten, I poured it into another pan and set them on an open burner. "Toast?" I asked.

"Of course," he said with a grin. I stuck two slices in the toaster and waited for the eggs to finish. Sherlock emerged a few minutes later in a dressing gown with his hair dripping on his shoulders. John and I finished making breakfast, and I divided it up between three plates. John took his to the table with his computer, Sherlock went to the couch, and I sat in John's chair. We all ate in silence, well John and I did. Sherlock picked as his food and turned his nose up at the bacon. John finished first and carried his plate to the sink. He washed all of the dirty dishes while Sherlock and I finished eating. I grabbed his plate from him and headed in to the kitchen to give it to John so he could clean it. Sherlock flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling in silence. "I need a case," he muttered.

"Check the internet," John said slowly from the sink. Sherlock huffed and rolled over to face the back of the couch. I swung my legs over the left arm of John's chair and leaned my back on the right. "I'm going to shower, then head to get groceries. Jamie you can stay here if you like," John announced when he was finished with the dishes. I watched him leave the room before glancing over at Sherlock. He was tensed up against the back of the sofa, and his position didn't seem very comfortable to me. "Sherlock?" I asked softly. He rolled over to glare at me. "Are you bored?" I asked meeting his steely gaze.

"Why do you care?" he snorted and rolled onto his back.

"I don't know," I muttered.

"Why did you ask?" he sighed.

"John told me about your boredom. Let's play a game," I suggested and leap up from my position. "I have a wii with Mario Kart,"

"And, you think that'll help my boredom?" he said with a quirked eyebrow.

"Yep," I said, popping the 'p'. I walked out of his flat and down into 221A to grab the console and required things to make it run. I climbed back up and went to hook it up to their telly. "Come on, Sherlock," I begged. He gave me a cold glare before shuffling in my direction. I flopped down onto the floor in front of the telly while Sherlock sat in the chair. The home menu popped up on the screen and I set up the first race. "Do you know how to play?" I said with a glance over my shoulder at him. He huffed and nodded so I turned back around and started the race. It didn't take long for us to start shouting at the telly. "If you send one more blue turtle shell at me, Sherlock, I will choke you," I threatened as my character yet again spun out of control. I took the lead again easily, and Sherlock caught up behind me. "Get out of my way, Jamie!" he shouted back at me as I cut him off again and again. I wound up winning, and I fell back on the floor laughing. Sherlock had a glare plastered on his face as he watched me celebrate. "Again," he insisted, so I started the next race.

Several hours and death threats later, John walked into the flat to find me leaning on Sherlock's legs with a bag of crisps laying on the floor next to me. Sherlock was trying to yank my controller from me and I was screaming at him. "Sherlock, Jamie, what on Earth are you doing?" John shouted over the noise we were making.

"He's trying to steal my controller," I shouted before grunting as Sherlocked tackled me. He pinned my back down with his knees and wrestled the controller from my grasp. "Sherlock, get off of her," John ordered while trying to yank him off. His weight was thrown off my back, and I pushed myself up off the floor. "You okay?" John asked, a look of deep concern on his face. I grinned at him and ruffled his hair. "Sure am," I said as I grabbed the crisps from the floor and shoved a handful in my mouth. Sherlock sat in the chair by the telly again, and his arms were crossed in a pout. "Quit pouting, you look like a toddler," I said as I walked past him and out of their flat.

I went into 221A and cleaned up the mess I had made in the three days I had been here. I watered Mrs. Hudson's plants and made sure all the dishes were clean before putting them away. I then went to wash my laundry. Half an hour later, John walked into the flat and announced that he and Sherlock were going to the bank. "I'll see you soon, then," I said as I folded one of my shirts. John nodded and turned to leave with a wave. I went to turn on my radio and blasted my favorite music a full volume. The chores came easier with the music up so loud. When I was finished with my flat, I headed up to 221B to clean up after the boys.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Several hours later, I had just settled down into the clawfoot tub with the radio still blaring music, when the boys returned. They barged into the flat and turned off my music. "Oi!" I shouted from the bathroom. "Turn that back on!" Sherlock barged into the bathroom and I squealed. "Get out," I huffed with my arms covering all the essentials.

"We need your help," Sherlock insisted.

"No, John needs my help. You don't need anybody," I sighed and rolled onto my side with my chin on the side of the tub.

"I'm not leaving until you agree to help," he huffed and crossed his arms. John peeked around Sherlock and his cheeks turned red. "Sherlock, she's naked," John said in a small voice.

"So am I, so are you. We're all naked, we just have polyester and cotton to cover it. She doesn't," Sherlock said with a glance at John.

"I don't mind, John," I sighed. "Sherlock, I have to work in three hours, leave."

"No," he said after crossing his arms. John sighed loudly and pulled on Sherlock's shoulder.

"You'll leave if I agree to help?" I muttered with my eyes closed.

"Yes,"

"Fine, I'll help," I said with a glance at John before meeting Sherlock's icy gaze.

"Get dressed and meet us upstairs," Sherlock said, a bounce in his step as he turned to leave. John followed him with an apologetic smile in my direction. He shut the door to the flat and I climbed out of the tub. I dried myself off and walked into the bedroom in the nude. It didn't take me long to find my clothes that I wanted to wear. A black lacy skirt, white button down top, and my all black trainers, which I pulled on easily over my undergarments. I dried my hair and twisted it up into a bun with my bangs loose across my forehead. Satisfied with my attire, I left the flat with my wallet and keys and locked the door behind me. I left my shirt untucked and enjoyed the feeling of the end of my skirt brushing around my knees.

When I walked into their flat, I was immediately assaulted by the sight of large black boxes and Sherlock digging through them. "What are you doing?" I asked as Sherlock slammed two books down on the table next to John.

"We need to find all the common books between these two sets," Sherlock said as he began digging and comparing once more. John glanced up at me and did a double take. He grinned at me before returning to his work. "You look very nice, Jamie," John said as he removed Sherlock's stack from his.

"Thank you, John," I said as I moved towards the other boxes. Sherlock huffed a sigh and continued to work in silence. "I have a job, Jamie," John announced after ten minutes of work.

"That's great, John," I said, throwing a grin in his direction.

"I work at the clinic, filling in. There's this woman there, her name's Sarah. She's really nice," John said as he continued to work. I nodded and continued to work. After two hours of work, we had found ten matching books. "I have to go to work now, I'll be back around midnight," I said as I glanced at my watch on my wrist.

"See you, Jamie," John said with a glance in my direction. Sherlock looked at me for a moment out of the corner of his eye before returning to his work. I walked out of their flat and down the stairs to the front door. I pulled on my gray coat and walked out onto the sidewalk. The cold London air bit my cheeks as I walked towards Skippy's. I hugged myself and walked quickly, trying to escape the cold. My phone was gripped in my fist, which was shoved into my armpit.

I finally reached Skippy's with ten minutes to spare. The bar was already crowded, and Danny was working the bar. I waved to him before heading into the back room. I hung my coat on my peg that was nailed into the wall, and tucked my shirt into my skirt. I shoved my phone into my bra and checked my hair in the mirror. Satisfied, I walked back out into the main room, and headed towards the bar. "You can go if you want, Danny," I said as I reached for one of the clean towels to dry the cups.

"We're pretty busy tonight, I better stay," Danny said with a small smile at me. He had straight blonde hair and chocolate brown eyes. He was shorter than Sherlock, but towered over John. I smiled at him before turning to the people crowding the bar. The first few drinks were simple to prepare, and I handed them off quickly. One of my regulars was perched on the stool directly across from me. "Hello, Jamie," he said with a sly grin. He was slim and dressed in a suit. His dark hair was carefully combed and styled. "Hey, Jim," I said with a lopsided grin. He was one of the few I had bothered to learn their name. "The usual?" I prompted. He nodded, his grin never leaving his face. I prepared his drink and set it carefully in front of him. "Thanks," he said as a half smile tweaked his lips. I gave him the two finger salute and moved off to take care of the other patrons. I could feel his eyes on me as I worked, and I made sure to head back over to him every free moment I had. I enjoyed talking to him. He was always kind, and extremely flirtatious. "Love the skirt," he commented as I leaned my hip on the edge of the counter across from him.

"Thanks," I said and tilted my head to meet his gaze. His eyes were beautiful pools of brown, and they were old. He had seen a lot in his life. "Walk me home?" I prompted after a moment.

"Anything for you, doll," he said with a twirl of his fingers. My smile widened, and I reluctantly moved off to take care of one of the more inebriated men. His face was drooping and he was wobbly on his feet. "Hey, sweetie, I think it's about time you head on home," I suggested in a clear voice.

"No, I haven't had enough to drink," he insisted as he slumped down onto the stool.

"I believe you have. I'll call you a taxi, and Danny here can help you outside," I said with a smile. I waved Danny over and tilted my head in the drunk man's direction. He nodded, and I headed over to the phone to get the man a taxi. It didn't take long for it to show up, and I watched Danny help the man out of the bar. "That could have gone a lot worse," I muttered and went to go refill drinks. Jim smiled at me from his perch on the stool, and I immediately walked over to him. "So, how is life?" he prompted.

"Oh, it's been good. This job is paying well, especially with all the tips, and I haven't had any problems at home," I said with a brief grin.

"Good to hear, doll," he drawled with a slow smile.

"We close soon, so I'll see if Danny can clean up. I don't want to keep you," I said before moving off to hunt down my blonde partner. He agreed to clean up and dismissed me for the night. I grabbed my coat and fished my phone out of my bra before returning to Jim. He was waiting by the entrance, and when I approached he stuck out his elbow for me to take. "Thank you, Jim," I said as we set off towards Baker Street.

"For what?"

"Being such a gentleman," I said with a grin. He grinned back for a few moments before turning back to watch where we were going. "How far is your flat?" He asked after a moment of steady silence.

"Not far. Next street over," I responded. It didn't take us long to arrive, and I stood on the sidewalk in front of Speedy's, facing him. He took my hands in his and kissed my knuckles. "Do you work tomorrow?" he asked looking up from our joined hands.

"Yes," I said slowly.

"I'll be there then," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. We had known each other for several months, and I always held a special place for him. I fancied him. He looked extremely kissable in that moment, so on a whim I pulled him towards me and pressed my lips to his. He responded immediately, and released my hands to hold my waist. I pushed my fingers into the hair at the base of his neck and sighed contentedly. He smiled against my lips before tilting his head to deepen the kiss. He ran his tongue along the seam of my mouth and I gasped in surprise, which he took advantage of. His fingertips pressed into my skin and he drew me closer against him. "Hello there," I muttered against his mouth with my eyes closed, a grin on my lips. He grunted in response and moved his mouth against mine. The world around us disappeared when he kissed me. I felt at home in his arms, completely safe and protected. He broke away to stare into my eyes, and turned so he could press me up against the building beside us. We were hidden from view from inside the restaurant, but anyone passing by could see us. "I take it you liked that," he muttered while he watched me catch my breath.

"Sure did," I huffed before pulling him back to crash our mouths together again. He pressed his body more into mine and pinned my hands to the wall above my head. "We should probably stop," I huffed out between the meetings of our lips. He grunted in response and explored my mouth with his tongue. He tasted sweet and spicy from the drinks I had served him. I opened my eyes when the door beside me flew open. Sherlock stormed out with a glare on his face, and I deftly met his gaze. "What are you doing?" he almost snarled. Jim had turned his face away from Sherlock, and buried it in against my shoulder. "None of your buisness," I hissed back.

"Stop acting like a lustful teenager," he scolded.

"Yes, father," I huffed and rolled my eyes. His anger grew, and I could see him visibly shaking. He grimaced at me when I rubbed my hand along the back of Jim's neck. I could feel his smile at my defiance. "John is worried about you," Sherlock snarled.

"I'm not dead," I huffed, continuing to brush my fingers through Jim's hair. I watched my hand work instead of meeting his gaze. He was unnerving. "Please, come inside," Sherlock finally relented.

"Leave me alone, Sherlock," I finally sighed.

"I'll get John to carry you inside," he threatened.

"Why don't I let Jim carry me inside?" I said with a smile and batted my eyelashes. He glared at me, and if he could shoot lightning out of his eyes, I would have been dead. "Jamie, I'll just go. He's obviously concerned for you. I'll see you around, doll," Jim finally said before pressing a kiss to my neck. He turned out of my arms and walked off with a wave. I watched him leave before pushing myself off of the wall and stalked into 221B. I slammed my shoulder into Sherlock and stomped up the stairs to their flat.

I walked in and saw John typing away on his computer. "Hey, John," I sighed as I headed into their kitchen to make tea. I was surprised how close the three of us had grown in the few days I had been here. I knew I wouldn't be able to forget them ever. They were too important to me. "You okay, Jamie?" John called when he heard me slamming things around in the kitchen.

"Just dandy, John," I grunted as I made my tea. It didn't take long, and I was soon shuffling back to sit in John's chair. I sipped my tea before setting it on the table next to me. I then spun around so my head was hanging towards the floor and my feet were off the back of the chair. "What are you doing?" he asked slowly.

"Pouting," Sherlock answered from the doorway.

"Why?" John asked, glancing up at him.

"I walked outside and saw her kissing some strange man," he replied while walking towards the couch. He flung himself down on his back and watched me from the corner of his eye. I glared at him and spun so I was facing away from him with my back leaning against the armrest. "Who was it, Jamie?" John asked, a lopsided smile on his face.

"One of my regulars who walks me home. I've known him for months. Not that it's any of your buisness," I sighed and took a sip of my tea. John grimaced and returned to whatever he was working on. We fell into silence, and my anger dissipated. "Did you solve that case?" I asked after half an hour of silence.

"Yes," Sherlock answered. He provided no details on it, and I didn't ask for them. John would be posting on his blog about it soon anyways. I finished my tea and yawned quietly. I leaned my head on the back of the chair and watched John work for a few moments. My eyes slowly drifted closed, and I was soon asleep.

I woke up to the feeling of someone sliding their arms underneath me. "Do you ever eat?" John hissed as he lifted me from his chair. I leaned my face into his neck and let him carry me. He was warm and I could hear Sherlock moving around us as he held open doors and watched John descend the stairs. "Don't drop her," Sherlock said softly.

"I would never. Besides, she weighs barely anything," John whispered back. We entered 221A and Sherlock went to open the bedroom door. I listened to him pull back the covers and John gently lowered me onto the bed. Someone tucked the blankets up around my chin and they both left the room without a word. I rolled over and snuggled deeper into the pillows. I heard them shut the door to the bedroom, but not the flat. I opened my eyes and stripped off my clothes, the blankets making me sweat. Left in just a bra and panties, I fell asleep easily.

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I woke up to the sound of a massive explosion. "Sherlock!" I screamed as loud as I could while leaping out of my bed. I ran to grab a tank top before launching my way out of the flat and up to theirs. I yanked the tank top on just as I barged into the room. Sherlock was pushing himself up from the floor. I could hear sirens outside and the windows were blown in. I scrambled over to him and helped him up off the floor. After inspecting his back for any glass that could have imbedded itself in his skin, I threw my arms around him and pulled him close to me. "Are you okay?" I whispered with my face buried in his shoulder. He slowly wrapped his arms around my back and nodded. "Where's John?" I asked leaning back to look at him. I pressed my hands to his cheeks, capturing his full attention.

"He spent the night at Sarah's. I was bored and he couldn't take it anymore," he answered mechanically. I nodded and pressed a kiss to his brow just as a man walked into the room carrying a black umbrella. "Who's this?" he asked as Sherlock looked over my shoulder at him. His grip on my back tightened automatically, almost possessively. "This is Jamie, Mycroft," He grunted with a glare thrown in the man's direction. I brushed his hair from his forehead and pulled out of his grasp. I walked over to his chair and pulled on his blue dressing gown that was flung haphazardly over the back. "Hello, I'm Mycroft Holmes. Sherlock's big brother. You must be the girl who's living in Mrs. Hudson's flat while she's away," Mycroft said while he watched me pull on the gown.

"Jamie McConnell," I replied. I brushed my messy bangs back from my forehead and headed over to the couch. Sherlock followed me and sat before I had the chance to fling myself into a lounging position. I shot him a glare and sat next to him. I wound up with my feet on his lap and my head resting against the armrest. Mycroft stood in front of us, leaning on his umbrella with his right leg resting on the toe in front of the left. "I need you to investigate a murder and a missing memory stick," Mycroft said

"Can't," Sherlock said just as John came running into the room. He was shouting our names and stopped when he saw us. "I saw it on the telly, you both okay?" He asked inspecting us with his eyes.

"He's okay, John," I said blowing air on my bangs that had flopped into my eyes.

"And you?"

"I was still asleep," I said with a half smile.

"'Can't'" Mycroft mocked with a sneer.

"The stuff we were planning on doing is way more important," Sherlock replied. John looked at us both in disbelief. I subtly shrugged my shoulders and snuggled deeper into the couch. "This is of national importance," Mycroft insisted.

"How's the diet?" Sherlock sneered in response as he wiggled my toes.

"Stop that tickles," I grunted with my eyes closed.

"Just fine. John will you get through to him?" Mycroft said as he turned to the shorter man.

"Nope," John said as he moved closer to me. I watched him settle on the floor with his back leaned against the couch. "Why don't you do it, Mycroft?" I supplied with my eyes still shut.

"A case like this requires legwork," he said with a grimace.

"How was Sarah, John?" I asked.

"Just fine," he grunted shooting me a glare. I pressed my thumb into the top of his shoulder and he flinched. "You slept on the sofa," Sherlock said with a grin. Mycroft watched our exchange with an intrigued gaze. "What's he like to live with?" He said with a pointed look to John. "Hellish, I imagine."

"I'm never bored," John replied.

"You should see the basement," I piped in. Sherlock shot a small smile in my direction before turning back to glare at his older brother. "I'll leave the file with you, John. Be sure it gets taken care of," Mycroft said before turning to leave the flat. I stuck my tongue out at him as he left, which he didn't catch. "Why'd you lie?" I asked when I had turned back to look at Sherlock.

"Why not?" Sherlock asked.

"I understand completely. Sibling rivalry. Happens to the best of us," I said with a half grin. A few moments later, Sherlock's phone started to ring in my pocket. I dug for it and held it out to him. He took it and answered it with, "Sherlock Holmes." I watched him listen to the person on the other line for a few moments. "How could I refuse?" he asked before ending the call. "Lestrade. I've been summoned. Either of you coming?"

"Can I get dressed?" I muttered. Sherlock glanced over at me and sighed. "Quickly. We'll wait for you outside." he responded with a roll of his eyes. I grinned before leaping up and running down the stairs. I dressed quickly in jeans and a solid black shirt. I yanked on my trainers and grabbed my wallet and keys. I pulled on my jacket and stuffed my belongings in the pockets as I trudged out of the flat. I redid my bun and I walked out of the building, and stuffed a wad of gum into my mouth. Sherlock retrieved a cab easily and we all piled in. Sherlock directed it to Scotland Yard, and settled in to play on his phone. I stared out the window while John watched me.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

When we pulled up to Scotland Yard, I picked up the taxi fare, and we headed inside. I was between John and Sherlock, and when a handsome man with graying hair approached us, Sherlock subconsciously stepped between us. I rolled my eyes at his back and peeked my head around him. John snickered at his friend's antics. "I've got an interesting case for you," the man said with a small smile.

"Obviously. I wouldn't have shown up otherwise," Sherlock muttered. I pinched his back right below his shoulder and he whipped around to glare at me. "Be nice," I hissed. He bared his teeth in a grimace in return, and turned back to the man. "Hello, I'm Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade of Scotland Yard. Who are you?" Lestrade said, eyeing me purposefully.

"Jamie McConnell," I responded and shoved Sherlock out of the way so I could shake his hand. Lestrade smiled at me before turning to lead us through the building. "That explosion wasn't a gas leak," Lestrade said as we began passing desks.

"No?" Sherlock asked slowly.

"It just looked like one," Lestrade said. We passed by a sneering black woman, and I shot her a glare. My hackles raised immediately and John sighed as he watched our exchange. Sherlock glared at her as well, and we continued on into Lestrade's office. A large envelope sat on his desk, it was addressed to Sherlock. "It's not booby trapped. We've X-rayed it," Lestrade said as Sherlock moved closer to it. He sighed and examined it under a lamp that was on the desk. I watched him alongside John who had slipped his hand into mine. It was a friendly gesture, and one of warning when the woman from outside walked in. "The stationery is Bohemian, from the Czech Republic," Sherlock said as he examined the envelope. "Any fingerprints?"

"No,"

"She used a fountain pen,"

"She?" Lestrade asked, perplexed.

"Obviously," Sherlock sighed. I studied the loopy handwriting and could easily tell it was female. I nudged John and nodded slowly, rolling my eyes. Sherlock cautiously opened the letter and pulled out a pink phone. "But, that's the pink phone," John said, shocked.

"The one from A Study in Pink?" Lestrade asked.

"It;s obviously not the same phone, but made to look…" he stopped speaking to look at Lestrade. "You read his blog?"

"Of course I read his blog, we all do. You really don't know the Earth goes around the Sun?" Lestrade exclaimed. Donovan started laughing from her position by the door, watching the exchange. I turned and shot her a glare, wanting to knock her to the floor. John's grip on my fingers tightened painfully, and I squealed. Everyone turned to look at me as I shook my hand, trying to relieve the pain. I turned my glare on John who was smiling innocently. "Did you hurt her?" Sherlock asked, his focus on John.

"Don't get all defensive with me, mate. She was about to tear Donovan's throat out," John said holding up his hands. Sherlock nodded slowly and inspected my hand carefully. His fingers were cool on my burning knuckles. "I'm fine, Shezza," I hissed, yanking my hand away. Sherlock turned back to examine the pink phone more, and the exchange was forgotten. Donovan had left the room, and I glared at her back as she went. "It was made to look like the same phone, but it's brand new. That means that your blog has a wider readership than we originally thought." Sherlock said. The phone beeped and announced it had one new message. The phone made four noises and a picture appeared on the screen. It was a photograph of a old peeling room. "What is that?" Lestrade asked slowly.

"It's a warning," Sherlock responded. "And, I've seen this place before,"

"Warning?" I asked, finally breaking my silence.

"Five pips. They're warning us. It's going to happen again," Sherlock said, meeting my gaze. I could see his brain running rampage, panic in his eyes. I stepped forward but stopped. He didn't need affection. Sherlock turned and started walking out of the station. John grabbed my hand and pulled me after him. "What's going to happen?" I called after his dark, retreating form.

"Boom!" he exclaimed as he whirled around with his hands up in an explosion motion. I listened to Lestrade follow us as we exited the station. Sherlock hailed a taxi, and we all piled inside. I leaned my head back, and closed my eyes as we merged into the busy London traffic.

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When we arrived back at Baker Street, we all piled out of the taxi. Sherlock turned and gripped my shoulders as John searched for his key. "Please do not be upset. Our work is gone. I guarantee it," Sherlock said, his eyes staring intently into my steel gray ones. My bottom lip quivered slightly. He sighed and grabbed my cheeks. "I know what it meant to you. Honestly, I'm distraught too. We can recreate it. Please, don't cry," He sighed. I nodded and leaned into his palms. His hands we massive, and they cradled my face gently. I reigned in my emotions and peeked over at Lestrade. He was staring at us with a small smirk. I glared at him for a moment before looking back at Sherlock. "I'm okay," I sighed, and he dropped his hands. We turned and headed inside the building. Sherlock produced the key to the basement flat, and I glared at him. "Oi! You pick-pocketed me," I shouted as he flounced down the stairs.

"Don't be so trusting," Sherlock called back as we all followed him. I walked into the room slowly and tears welled up. All of our beautiful art was gone. Sherlock turned to look at me, and sighed. "John," he said and gestured to me. John nodded and grabbed me to crush me to his chest. "It's gone," I whispered, my heart aching. John sighed and pulled me closer. My hands hung low on his hips and my forehead rested on his shoulder. Sherlock was inspecting the pair of trainers that had been left in the middle of the room. Then a phone started to ring, and I jumped slightly. My crying had stopped, but I was reluctant to release John. He was a solid wall of comfort. He didn't seem to mind holding me, and he could watch over my shoulders anyways. Sherlock answered it and asked who the caller was. He was on the pink phone. "Why are you crying?" Sherlock asked. He listened to the person on the other line, and then put the phone in his pocket when the line went dead. Sherlock and Lestrade turn to look at us, and I peeked at Sherlock. "We can recreate it, Jamie. I need to solve this case first," he sighed.

"I have to go get ready for work," I muttered before releasing John. I trudged up the stairs and into 221A.

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I walked home with Jim again that evening. "Is your big brother going to interrupt us again?" he asked with a smirk. We had stepped inside the building as rain started to fall from the sky. "No, he's at St. Bart's," I said with a sly grin.

"Good," he muttered before drawing me closer to press his lips to mine. My back was immediately pressed against the wall and my hands tangled into his black hair. "Let's,uh, head into my flat," I muttered, breaking off the kiss. Jim nodded excitedly and released me. I walked over to the door to 221A and shut the door behind Jim. I turned the lock and went ahead and jammed a dining room chair under the handle, too. "He picks locks," I sighed before heading into the kitchen again.

"Tea?" I asked slowly, my nerves eating at me.

"No," he whispered as he pinned me to the counter, his hands on either side of my hips and he stared at me intently. I smiled at him and leaned in to press my lips to his once more. There was more passion in this kiss, and my hands moved to grab at his hips. I pulled him flush against me and our body temperatures were rising. I grabbed at them hem of his black t-shirt and pressed my hands flat to his abdomen. He broke our kiss to yank off his shirt. His skin was pale, contrasting nicely with his dark eyes and hair. I traced my hands over his lean muscles, and he watched my face. "Can we not do this in the kitchen? I eat here," I whispered, enthralled by his skin. His muscles contracted as I brushed his waistline with my nails. He kissed me again and lifted me so I could wrap my legs around his waist. He carried me into the bedroom and I winced. "I feel bad. I don't think the owner of this flat would appreciate me defiling her mattress," I said softly. He laughed softly and set me down so he could pull the blankets and pillows off the bed. He spread them on the floor and turned to look at me. "You can wash those can't you?" he asked with a sly grin.

"Of course," I said and walked over to him. He grabbed my face in his hands and kissed me again. My nerves disappeared quickly, and we were soon bare and on the pile of blankets. He looked down at me and kissed the tip of my nose. "I want you to know, that I don't just hand around that bar for sex. I actually wanted to get to know you, this is just a plus," He said with a grin. I smiled back at him and kissed him.

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I woke up from a blissful sleep completely naked and wrapped up in someone's arms. I opened my eyes to see Jim asleep beside me. He had his arms around me, and my head was on his bicep. I smiled slowly and brushed the skin of his abdomen with my fingers. He opened his eyes and smiled at me. "Hello, doll," he said softly while pulling me closer.

"Hello," I breathed, enjoying the feeling of his arms around me. A loud banging noise brought me to my senses. I launched up from the floor and hissed as the cold air hit my naked skin. Jim watched me pull a sheet from the bed and wrap it around me. I walked over to the door, and unlocked it while checking that the essentials were covered. I opened it to see Sherlock standing there with John. "Good morning," I sighed drawing the sheet closer around me.

"It's afternoon, now. Have you been sleeping all day?" John said. I grimaced and rubbed the back of my neck. "Not really," I said slowly.

"We only have six hours left," Sherlock said, searching myr flat with his eyes. They suddenly lit up with understanding and he turned his gaze back to me. I was glaring at the floor, and I could feel John's dumbfounded stare. "Well, you seem indisposed. I'll leave you to whoever-whatever- you're doing," Sherlock said, catching himself at the last moment. I shifted my gaze to him and glared. "You shut up," I said in a low voice. Sherlock smirked and backed away. "Come along, John. Carl Powers awaits," Sherlock said as he turned to head up the stairs to his flat. John slowly followed him, and I slammed the door shut. I turned to see Jim fully clothed. "I better go. I have work, soon," Jim said sheepishly.

"Oh, all right. Well I'll see you around," I said softly. He smiled and pressed a kiss to my lips. I smiled into it and he moved to leave the building. I smiled and headed back into the bedroom to clean up after our mess. I threw all of the blankets and pillowcases into the washer, along with the sheet I still had wrapped around me. I then walked into the bathroom and showered quickly. With my hair loose and wet, I walked up the stairs to their flat. I was wearing a pair of sweats and an old shirt. "Hello, boys," I said in a singsong voice as I walked in. I immediately headed to their kitchen. "Don't you have tea downstairs?" Sherlock asked with a glare.

"Yes, but yours is better," I responded. Sherlock sighed and resumed his thinking. I walked back out of their kitchen and flicked the back of his neck as I passed him. He shifted a glare to me, and I smirked as I sat in John's chair. John was lying on the sofa with a newspaper, ignoring our antics. "Do you work today, Jamie?" John asked after a moment of silence.

"No, why?" I sighed looking over at him.

"Well, I was hoping you could get the groceries for us," he said, tossing me a pleading look.

"Sure, make a list," I sighed and ran my fingers through my wet hair. I flicked the water at Sherlock, who flinched and turned to stare at me. "Did you solve that case of Carl Powers?" I asked slowly.

"Yes, but I have a new one," Sherlock sighed. "It's a game,"

"Well, how long do you have?"

"Seven hours and thirty-two minutes," he muttered. John sat up and began scribbling on a pad of paper. The list steadily grew, and then he handed it to me. "Here you go," he said with a grin.

"See you, then," I sighed and stood. I walked over to him and grabbed the list from his hand. I then walked around the sofa and kissed his cheek, much to his surprise. "You be careful today," I said softly before walking back across the room. I stuffed the list in my pocket and walked to Sherlock. He was deep in thought, his hands steepled in front of his face. "Oi," I said and tapped his shoulder. He shook his head and ruffled his hair before turning to look at me. "You be careful, too," I whispered with a smirk. I brushed his dark bangs off his face before pressing a kiss to his brow. He smiled softly and nodded before turning back around to think once more. I waved to John and headed out of their flat. It didn't take me long to find my trainers and coat, and then I was out of the front door.

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After stopping for a quick lunch, I trudged up and down between the rows of groceries with John's list. It was extensive, and I sighed softly. My phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out to glance at it.

**Went to Scotland Yard SH**

It read. I smiled softly and typed back

**Don't stay out too late **

I stuffed my phone back in my pocket, and continued my hunt. It took me two hours to find everything on John's list, and also the things I wanted. I went to the counter and paid for the groceries and trudged outside. I hailed a cab and tossed all my bags in the back seat before flopping down beside them. "Baker Street," I declared, and the taxi merged into London traffic. I pulled out my phone and opened my messages. I tapped a message to John first

**Be careful. Take care of him. **

I then typed a message to Sherlock

**Don't get into any trouble. **

I stuck my phone back in my pocket, and redid my ponytail. It didn't take long to reach Baker Street, and I was soon hauling my bags inside. I set the bag of my things in 221A, and then trudged up the stairs to 221B. I sighed as I entered their flat. It was a complete mess. I set their bags on the table and immediately began to put them away. I had learned their kitchen easily. Sherlock had organized it, and I made sure to follow it. I didn't want to face his wrath. My phone buzzed from over by John's computer, and I shuffled over to retrieve it.

**Don't worry about us. SH **

I smiled and set my phone back down so I could finish. I then moved around their flat, picking up the things that were strewn about. I poked Billy the skull in the eye before flopping down on their sofa. I didn't buy any cold things for myself, so I just left them on the counter downstairs. I would get to them after my nap.

I woke up to Sherlock throwing his coat over me. "Wha?" I sighed rubbing my eyes.

"You weren't supposed to wake up," he muttered and sat on the little table next to me. I pulled his coat up over my head and curled up tighter into a ball. "Go away," I hissed and clenched my eyes shut. It was freezing in their flat, the windows were still blown out, and the cold London air blew in through the cracks of the boarded window. Sherlock's jacket still held his body heat, and it smelled nice. I smiled and listened to him get up and walk away. "Just let her be, Sherlock," John sighed. I fell asleep once more after that.

It was several hours later when strong arms lifted me up once more. "I'm not a child," I muttered and snuggled closer into the warm chest. This chest was much different. More pointy and angular, lean. Sherlock was carrying me this time. "No, but you insist upon sleeping in our flat," he muttered as we started bouncing down the stairs.

"Shhh, sleeping," I whined while clenching my eyes shut. He chuckled and carried me into 221A. He set me down on the bed in the bedroom and tucked the clean blankets up around my chin. I snuggled in and opened my eyes to look at him. "Stay?" I asked softly. He rolled his eyes at me, and kicked off his shoes before climbing in on the other side. "I don't sleep when I'm on a case," he muttered.

"I know," I said with a smirk. I rolled over so I could curl up with my back against him. He laid on top of the blankets with his arms up behind his head. "Why do you insist upon affections?" he sighed.

"Because it makes you uncomfortable," I responded, yawning at the end. I could practically hear him roll his eyes, but then he rolled so I was against his chest and his legs were bent behind mine. He sighed softly. "Stay until I fall asleep, and then you may go," I whispered.

"Okay," he sighed. I smiled at that, and relaxed farther into the bed. I fell asleep easily with Sherlock's body next to mine.

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I woke up and groaned loudly. My stomach was hurting and my head splitting. I curled up in a ball and pressed my palms to the sides of my head. "Ugh, not right now," I sighed. My eyes teared up at the pain. "John!" I shouted, hoping they were home. It was early in the morning, and Sherlock had left the flat. I listened to someone running down the stairs and into my room. A warm hand was pressed to my shoulder and I opened my eyes. "Ah light," I hissed, closing my eyes tightly.

"What's wrong, Jamie?" John asked softly as he moved to block the light.

"Can you call Skippy's? I can't come in today," I grunted clenching my fists next to my head.

"Sure, sure. What's wrong?" he asked again, sitting on the bed next to me.

"Well, you're a doctor, so you should know what happens to the ladies every month. Mine happens horribly," I muttered, squinting at him.

"Oh, what do you need?" he said, nodding in understanding.

"A bullet in my skull," I muttered through clenched teeth.

"How about some Tylenol instead?" he asked before heading into the bathroom to retrieve it. He came back with a glass of water and two white pills. He handed both to me and I took them greedily. I then settled back into the same position with my knees tucked up to my chest. "Did I wake you?" I asked slowly, my eyes shut tightly.

"Yeah, sorta. It's all right," he said softly. It didn't take long for the pills to kick in, and I relaxed slowly. I opened my eyes and released my head. He met my gaze and smiled. "You okay, now?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm going to go take a bath now," I said with a small smile.

"Okay, Sherlock and I are going to breakfast, want to come?" he asked. I grimaced at the thought of food and shook my head no. "Text either of us if you need us," he said as he stood. He brushed his fingertips on my arm and left the room. I listened to him shut the door to the flat and I slowly crawled out of bed. I turned on the music softly and headed into the bathroom. I ran the hot water for the bath and poured lavender oil in. I stripped and sunk into the water. I heard the boys come down the creaking stairs and prayed that they would stay out. They immediately left the front door, and I dipper lower into the water. I covered my ears and I listened to my heartbeat in my ears.

I stayed in the tub until the water grew cold. after climbing out and pulling on my clothes, I pulled on a dressing gown and headed in to the kitchen for some tea. I then shuffled over to the couch and settled down to watch crap telly. My headache had not reared its ugly head for a while. I sighed contentedly.

It was several hours later before the boys returned. I rolled up of the couch and stretched. I then shuffled towards the door and followed them up the stairs. I sighed and clutched my stomach with a grimace as I climbed the stairs. I stepped in to the flat and saw Sherlock hanging pictures, maps, and other bits of paper. He started connecting them with string. I watched him work from the doorway, my hands still clutching at my lower abdomen. I walked forward and stared at the connections he had made while he ruffled his hair. He glanced at me before beginning to pace. He started muttering incoherently to himself. I watched him quietly until the phone started to ring. He immediately picked it up and answered it. I turned to glance at Lestrade and John. John was watching me, and gave me a smile when I met his gaze. I returned the smile, and looked back at Sherlock as he put the phone down. He raises his fingers to his lips and steepled them after he and Lestrade shared a glance. I sighed softly and walked toward Sherlock. "You will figure this out, Shezza," I whispered.

"I don't doubt it," he muttered while returning his gaze to the wall. I sighed again and stood next to him. John and Lestrade were moving behind us, and I heard one settle on the couch and the other in one of the chairs by the fireplace. "I feel like my brain is a train running itself off the tracks," Sherlock whispered to me. I looked up at him, and his eyes were screaming vulnerability. I smiled at him and grabbed his cheeks in my hands. He closed his eyes and leaned into my fingers. "And, that is why you are brilliant at what you do. You have saved many lives today already, and you can save many more. Just control that brain of yours," I whispered.

"Interesting. The storm inside my head calmed down when you touched me," he whispered.

"It's because I care for you," I said with a smile.

"We've only known eachother for a week," he insisted, starting to pull away.

"No, don't go," I sighed and grabbed his cheeks harder. He stopped struggling and turned back to me. "Now, figure it out. Show off. Impress a girl," I said with a smirk. He sighed and closed his eyes. His hands immediately found my waist and I smiled. Several minutes later, Sherlock returned from his thoughts. "John, please go to Kenny Price's house. Do what I do," he said his gaze staring intently into mine. "Jamie, will you please go with him?"

"Well, since you said please," I said with a smirk. "Bye, Shezza," I pulled his forehead down and kissed it. With a quick pat to his cheeks, I turned and headed down to my flat. I made a quick stop in the bathroom, and then headed to grab my coat and pull on my trainers. I was wearing an oversized jumper and a pair of black leggings. John met me at the door, and we climbed into a taxi.

When we arrived at the house, I stood silently as John talked to a man in his late fifties wearing a purple shirt. We were ushered inside and sat together on the sofa. I crossed my legs and sighed. A hideous hairless cat jumped up onto John's lap, and I giggled at him. "Can I get either of you anything?" a young man asked from somewhere behind us. John glances at me before turning a politely declining. The man in the purple shirt was across the room, leaning on the mantlepiece. "Raoul is my rock, I'd be devastated without him," he said before glancing at the floor sadly. John sighed and placed the cat on the floor while it meows in protest. I giggled softly and scratched its ears. "My sister is very dear to me, although we didn't see eye to eye," Mr. Price said sadly.

"And, to the public, sir?" John asked.

"She was adored," Mr. Price said. John huffs in frustration as the cat climbs onto his lap. I smirk at him and continue to pet it. "It is a relief to know she is somewhere happy," Mr. Price said sadly. The cat had curled up in John's lap, purring loudly. John looked completely distraught, and I covered my giggle with my hand.

"Absolutely," John said after a moment. Mr. Price picked up a framed photo of Connie and was staring at it sadly. "Tetanus is easily contracted, it's in the soil. Someone cuts their hand on a rosebush or a garden fork, and if left un…" John started to say, but stopped when Mr. Price stood behind us. "treated."

"What am I going to do now?" Mr. Price said mournfully. I glanced at John, who had pulled out his notebook.

"Uh," John said nervously,

"She's left me this lovely place," Mr. Price said sadly. "But it's not the same without her,"

"That's why our paper wanted us to get the full story," John said slowly, glancing up at Mr. Price. "You're sure it's not too soon?"

"No,"

"Right,"

"You fire away," Mr. Price said with a wave of his hands. The cat leapt from John's lap suddenly and ran away. John scratched his nose, and smiled. I could see he had realised something. I watched Mr. Price walk around to face us, and John stopped itching his nose. "Jamie, can you call our photographer? I need him to pick up some things, I'll write you a list," John said, turning to look at me pointedly.

"Sure, Mr. Watson," I said, nodding in understanding. He smiled at me and scribbled a list, ripped it from his notebook, and handed it to me. "Excuse me, sir," I said as I stood to walk into another room. I could feel their eyes on me, and I made sure my hips weren't swinging too much. Mr. Price made me feel uncomfortable. I checked to make sure I was alone before pulling out my phone. I called Sherlock, and it rang twice before he answered. "Jamie," he said.

"Hey, Shezza, can you get over here? We're in a rush. I have a list of things I need you to pick up first. I know you'll remember them," I said.

"Okay," he said. I read out John's list and added a few things of my own. "Can you get me some Tylenol?" I asked quietly at the end.

"Sure, Jamie," Sherlock sighed before hanging up. I smiled and walked back into the room. John was sitting uncomfortably, and Mr. Price had settled into another chair. I went back to my spot beside John and sat down elegantly. I subtly pinched the bridge of my nose. My headache had come back full force. Raoul walked in carrying a tea tray and set it down on the table in front of us. I grimaced at the tea and declined. "You should drink something," John whispered to me.

"No, I'll be fine once Sherlock gets here," I said back. John sighed and sipped his tea. I dropped my hands from my face and fought to keep my expression neutral. Inside my head I was screaming in pain. Mr. Price stands and heads to the mirror to fix his appearance. I subtly grip my head and John watches me in sympathy. "He's hurrying, I promise," John breathed to me.

"Shhh," I hissed. John sighed and I dropped my hands from my head. It took Sherlock fifteen minutes to arrive. I sighed happily when he walked into the room carrying a camera and several bags. "Mr. Price, it it?" Sherlock said with a smile plastered on his face.

"Yes,"

"It's so good to meet you,"

"Yes, thank you," he said as Sherlock enthusiastically shook his hand. I smirked slightly at his acting. "I'm sorry to hear about…" Sherlock started, but was cut off by Mr. Price.

"Yes, yes, very kind," he said quickly.

"Shall we, uh, get started?" John suggested.. We both stood from the sofa as Sherlock walked over. He glanced behind him to see Mr. Price checking his reflection once more. He turned back to me and grabbed my face to peer into my eyes. "Don't panic. I couldn't find the Tylenol. I am sorry," Sherlock whispered. I slowly drew in a breath before grimacing in pain as my headache flared up. Sherlock frowned and let me go. John turned to whisper to Sherlock as he rummaged through his bag. "You're right. The bacteria got in another way," John whispered.

"Oh, really," Sherlock said with a smirk.

"Yes,"

"We all set?" Mr. Price said as he turned to face us.

"Yes, sir," I said cheerfully. Mr. Price leaned his arm on the mantlepiece and began to pose as Sherlock took a few pictures. I walked towards John and he warned me with his eyes before turning to Sherlock. "Sherlock, light reading?" John asked after Mr. Price picked his cat up. It was named Sekhmet, after the Egyptian goddess. Sherlock turned toward Mr. Price and flashed the light. "Two point eight," he replied to John. I squeezed my eyes shut as Sherlock continued to fire the flash. "What in the bloody hell do you think you're playing at?" Mr. Price shouted angrily.

"Sorry," Sherlock replied.

"I think we've got what we came for," John said and turned to leave. I opened my eyes and saw Sherlock gathering his things. "What?" Mr. Price asked. "You hardly got anything,"

"Excuse us!" I called as I hurried after the boys. I latched onto John's hand as he struggled to keep up with Sherlock.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

At the end of the drive, I grabbed at my head again. My headache pounded along with my heartbeat. "John, if you think it was the cat, it wasn't," Sherlock said to a grinning John. "My hands are cold, will that help?" He said to me. I grunted and Sherlock pressed his fingers to my face. "No here," I sighed and moved them higher. They now rested on my forehead his palms shielding my eyes from the sunlight. I gripped his wrists and resisted the urge to scream. "Raoul the houseboy. He wanted revenge. Kenny Price was the butt of his sister's jokes," Sherlock said slowly to a flabbergasted John. "Nice idea with the cat though,"

"Can we go home?" I asked softly.

"We're so close, Jamie. We're going to Scotland Yard, we'll get you something there," Sherlock sighed. I pushed my face into his palms, trying to add pressure to my headache. "Fine," I muttered. I released his hands and pressed my own to my head again. We continued to the end of the drive and Sherlock hailed a taxi. We all piled in and I bent forward so my face was buried in my knees. I sighed as the taxi started moving. I could hear Sherlock tapping away on his phone beside me, and I reached up to smack it out of his hands. "That's annoying," I muttered. He sighed and scooped his phone up from the floor. I could hear John giggling at us.

When we arrived at Scotland Yard, I immediately went to the bathroom. When I returned, John handed me some pills and a paper cup of water. I grinned like a child and took them. He smiled back and lead me over to Lestrade's office. It had grown dark outside, much to my relief. I walked in to Sherlock speaking to Lestrade. "Botox is a form of botulinum. Raoul was hired to give Connie her botox injections. He's been ordering in bulk for months," Sherlock said. "He bided his time, then upped the injection to a fatal dose."

"You sure about this?"

"I'm sure,"

"Hey, Sherlock, how long?" John said from beside me.

"What?"

"How long have you known?" John asked slowly.

"This one was easy. The bomber repeated himself. Gave us twelve hours, so now we're one up on him," Sherlock sighed.

"The old woman, she's been there all this time," John said back, a glare locked on his best friend. Sherlock sighed and sat behind the laptop on Lestrade's desk. I walked over to sit on the floor in the corner with my knees tucked up to my chest. The pressure relieved my cramps greatly. I sighed contentedly as the phone rang. Sherlock answered and listened to the woman. "Tell me where you are," Sherlock said. After a pause, he said, "No, tell me nothing about him… hello?" He slowly brought the phone away from his ear, and his gaze was fixed on me. I frowned at him. John and Lestrade figured out immediately what happened and John leaned on the back of the chair with his hand.

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The next morning, I woke up and showered. I stepped out and pulled on a pair of jeans and a jumper. I left my hair loose, and brushed my teeth. I then left the flat and headed up the stairs to the boys' flat. I walked in and they were both absorbed in the news. "New game?" I said as I headed to John's chair.

"Yes," Sherlock said without looking up. He sighed and began calling someone. I zoned out of his conversation at that moment and swung my legs over the side of John's chair. The windows were still boarded up, and the traffic outside was obnoxious. I focused back in when the boys stood. "Coming, Jamie?" John asked. I nodded excitedly and followed them downstairs. I grabbed my trainers and my coat and slipped them on at the bottom of the stairs. We all piled into a taxi and headed to the south bank of the Thames.

When we arrived, Sherlock led us across the police line and I grinned excitedly. "What are you smiling about?" John asked.

"I'm not allowed to be in a good mood?" I asked back. John sighed and rolled his eyes. We approached the body of a large man in black trousers, black socks, a white shirt, and no shoes. I smiled at Lestrade and walked closer to the body. Sherlock pulled on a pair of latex gloves as Lestrade asked, "You think this could be connected to the bomber?"

"Must be, though he hasn't been in contact," Sherlock said while pulling out the pink phone.

"But, we must assume some poor bugger's primed to explode, yeah?"

"Yes," Sherlock said as he stepped back to examine the body more.

"Any ideas?"

"Seven, so far,"

"Seven?" Lestrade exclaimed. Sherlock stepped forward to examine the body. He worked quickly and efficiently. He then turned and looked pointedly at us both. John sighed and squatted down to examine the body, as well. "Jamie, any ideas?" Sherlock asked as he pulled out his phone.

"Well, not nearly as many as yours. He obviously didn't drown, so asphyxiation?" I said as I squatted beside John.

"Yes," John responded.

"The bruises on his face look like fingertips," I muttered as I looked at them.

"Good," Sherlock said.

"Late thirties, not in his prime condition," I said slowly.

"He's been in the river for a long time, most of the data is destroyed. The lost Vermeer's painting is a fake," Sherlock said with a grin.

"What?" I exclaimed as I looked up at him.

"We need to identify the body,"

"Wait-wait-wait what painting? What are you on about?" Lestrade exclaimed.

"It's all over the news. Dutch Old Master, supposed to have been destroyed, it's turned up and worth thirty million pounds," I said, immediately recalling my joy at the announcement.

"So, what has that got to do with this?" Lestrade asked.

"Everything, ever heard of the Golem?" Sherlock answered.

"Golem?" Lestrade asked.

"It's an old Jewish folk tale. A horror story. What has that go to do with this?" I replied.

"There's an assassin that also goes by Golem, Oskar Dzundza, he's one of the deadliest in the world," Sherlock replied. "That's his trademark style,"

"What? Crushing your head in?" I said.

"Exactly," Sherlock said with a grin.

"So this is a hit?" Lestrade asked slowly.

"Yes,"

"But I don't see what this has to do with the painting," Lestrade said.

"You see, but you don't observe," Sherlock said.

"Alright ladies, take it down a notch. Shezza, wanna talk us through it?" I said as I rose from my crouch.

"The shirt and trousers are cheap and nasty. Must be standard issue because they're too big for him. He has a hook on his belt for a walkie talkie," Sherlock said to us.

"Tube driver?" I asked. Sherlock frowned and shook his head at me. "Alright, security guard?" I tried again.

"Much more likely. By the state of his backside, rather flabby, but the soles of his feet and his varicose veins tell us he does a lot of walking and a lot of sitting around. His watch shows us he did regular night watches," Sherlock pointed out. "The buttons are stiff, hardly touched. He must have set it and left it as is. He has a place on his shirt where a recognisable badge has been ripped off. The killer must have been interrupted." He produced a wad of paper and my mind immediately recognised them. "Ticket stubs," I said with a grin.

"He works at the Hickman Gallery, it has recently reported a missing attendant. Alex Woodbridge. The Golem had a reason to suffocate a gallery attendant. He obviously knew something about it, something that would prevent the owner from getting paid. That picture's a fake," Sherlock said triumphantly. I grinned at him and John. Sherlock smiled back at me, and glanced at John when he said "Fantastic,"

"Meretricious," Sherlock corrected.

"I better get my feelers out for this Golem character," Lestrade said slowly.

"You'll never find him, but I know somebody who can," Sherlock said.

"Who?" Lestrade asked while staring at the resident genius.

"Me," He said with a smirk. John sighed before turning to follow. I waved to Lestrade and jogged after the boys. We all piled into the cab and Sherlock directed it to Waterloo Bridge. I glanced over at Sherlock to see him staring at the pink phone. "Why hasn't he phoned? Why has he broken habit?" Sherlock muttered. I rubbed my eyes and sighed. "Tired?" Sherlock asked slowly, turning his gaze on me.

"Yeah,"

"We're almost finished. I can feel it," Sherlock said with a smirk. He ordered the taxi driver to stop and the boys climbed out. I leaned against the door and closed my eyes. A few minutes later they came back and the taxi took off for Hickman Gallery. We sat in silence, and I felt myself drifting off. I shook my head and sat up, trying to keep awake. The boys looked at me before turning back to their own things.

When we arrived at Hickman Gallery, Sherlock and I climbed out. "John, I need you to find out all you can about the gallery attendant. Lestrade will give you the address," Sherlock said.

"Okay," John said before closing the door. I watched the taxi pull away and Sherlock grabbed my hand. He started pulling me down the street past the Gallery. "Where are we going?" I asked.

"You haven't eaten all day. You also need coffee," Sherlock said. My stomach growled in response and I smiled sheepishly. He pulled me into a cafe and we sat at a table. I ordered quickly and settled into my seat. Sherlock was staring out of the window, but he turned his gaze to me after a moment. "You're always so quiet. Attentive. It's refreshing," he said.

"I like to listen and observe. Not one for meaningless chatter," I replied with a small smile.

"I enjoy having you around. I'll see if Mrs. Hudson would let you stay with us. I find myself craving your presence. It calms me," He admitted with a smile.

"How so?"

"Well, you're intelligent. You enjoy intelligence. Stupidity irritates you. We are one in the same," he said.

"Right you are. So, you want to keep me?"

"Essentially," Sherlock said. My order arrived and I immediately started eating. I felt better almost instantaneously. "Feeling better?" Sherlock asked. I nodded, my mouth stuffed full of food. I didn't bother eating like a lady. It wasted my time. Sherlock didn't mind anyways. I sighed contentedly as I sipped my black coffee. "That stuff tastes like dirt," Sherlock commented with a grimace.

"You taste like dirt," I shot back. He smiled and watched me eat. "Quit that. It's making me nervous," I said, shooting him a glare.

"Stop what?"

"Deducing me,"

"I can't just turn it off. There's no on switch," he sighed before looking away. I rolled my eyes and continued to eat. The food was completely satisfying. Sherlock picked up the tab, and we headed back to the Gallery. I sighed contentedly and rubbed my distended stomach. "All better, now," I said with a smile.

"Good. Come on," he said while grabbing my hand. He pulled me inside and we immediately headed into the security office. No one was inside. Sherlock walked up to the uniforms and held one out to me. "You'll swim in it, but that's okay," Sherlock commented. He sighed as he pulled off his coat and scarf. He went for the buttons of his shirt as I crossed my arms to pull off my t-shirt. I had a tank-top on underneath. I glanced over a Sherlock and got an eyeful of pale skin. His ribs and hipbones stuck out at sharp angles. "Do you ever eat?" I sighed.

"Not really. Digestion slows me down," he said and rubbed the back of his neck. I pulled on the oversize uniform shirt and did up the buttons as quickly as possible. I rolled my eyes at the pants. "I dont have a belt," I sighed. Sherlock pulled his off of his trousers and handed it to me. I nodded my thanks and kicked off my jeans. I grimaced as the cold air hit my skin and quickly pulled on the pants. I tucked the shirt in and pulled on Sherlock's belt. I had to tighten it to the last hole. Sherlock smiled at me with his hands stuffed in his pockets. His entire torso was covered in gooseflesh. "What are you waiting for?" I sighed with watching him.

"I'm not wearing any pants," he muttered.

"So? Not like you have anything I haven't seen before. You're wasting time," I said and waved my hand at him. He shrugged and undid his trousers. I closed my eyes and pulled my hair up into a bun so I could tuck it into the cap. I then turned around and folded up my clothes. I listened to him struggle with the fabric. "Need help?" I sighed and turned to look at him. The trousers hung way low on his angular hips and he was attempting to button the shirt. I walked over to him and smacked his hands out of the way. I undid all the buttons he had done, for they were in the wrong holes, and redid them. He grabbed on to the trousers as they started to slip lower. "Tucking the skirt in should help," I said, not taking my eyes off of the buttons. When I was finished, I backed away so he could tuck the shirt in. "Better?" I said with a smile.

"Yes, thank you," Sherlock said softly. He turned and grabbed two of the hats. I took one from him and stuffed my hair up inside. I then turned and grabbed my pile of clothes. Sherlock folded his and set them on my stack. "We'll hide these outside," he said before leading me out of the office. I struggled to keep up with his longer stride. "Slow down, please," I hissed. He immediately shortened his gait and we were soon walking together.

After stashing our clothes in a safe place, he led me into the gallery. I grinned when I saw the painting. "Oh, it's beautiful," I sighed. Sherlock smiled at me and crossed his hands behind his back. We stood for a moment before a woman walked up behind us. "Don't either of you have something to do?" She said.

"Just admiring the view," Sherlock replied.

"Yes. Lovely. Now get back to work, we open tomorrow," she replied. Sherlock looked over his shoulder at her and then turned and strutted towards her. I stayed where I was, admiring the painting. I studied it hard and committed every detail to memory. "Doesn't it bother you?" I asked, turning to look at her.

"What?" she asked.

"That the painting's a fake?" I said with a smirk.

"What?" she said louder, angry.

"It has to be a fake," I said, stepping closer to her. Sherlock stepped beside me and studied her name tag. "You're in charge here aren't you, Miss Wenceslas?" he said with a sneer.

"Who are you?" she hissed.

"Alex Woodbridge. He knew the painting was fake, so someone sent the Golem to take care of him. Was it you?" he sneered.

"The Golem? What are you on about?" she cried.

"Or are you working for someone else? Did you fake it for them?" I cut in.

"It's not a fake. I could have you both sacked on the spot," she threatened.

"Not a problem," I said in a singsong voice while backing away.

"No?

"We don't work here, you see. Just popped in to give a bit of friendly advice, darling," I called farther away. I pulled off the cap and threw it at Sherlock who set it next to his on the rail. I giggled at her outraged expression. "Who are you?" she demanded.

"Sherlock Holmes,"

"Jamie McConnell," we said at the same time. I shucked the large jacket off and dropped it to the floor. Sherlock's landed next to mine. "Am I supposed to be impressed?" she said, exasperated.

"You should be," I called. I flashed a grin and gave her a two finger salute before heading out the door. "Have a nice day!" Sherlock called before following me. I was giggling uncontrollably as we headed to get our clothes. "That was fun," I said while trying to catch my breath. We headed into the girl's bathroom and I immediately start to strip out of the uncomfortable clothes. I yanked on my jeans and shirt and pulled my hair down. I quickly braided it while trying not to watch Sherlock change. His skin was so strikingly pale that it drew the eyes. He easily did the buttons on his own shirt and then moved to pull off the oversized trousers. He wasn't looking at me as I struggled not to watch. I squeezed my eyes closed and finished off the braid. "Your trainer is untied," Sherlock pointed out. I opened my eyes and crouched down to redo the tie. Sherlock finished dressing and we left the uniforms in the bathroom. He grabbed my hand and we took off towards the pavement.

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An hour later, John, Sherlock, and I piled out of a cab at the Vauxhall arches. I yawned and followed the boys through the arches. The sky was clear, and it revealed the stars. "Pretty," I sighed happily. The boys looked at me, and John flashed a grin. We continued on into a nastier part of town. "Nice part of town, eh?" John said slowly. "Care to explain?"

"The homeless network is really indispensable," Sherlock replied simply. John produced a flashlight from his pocket and switched it on. I hung back from them, using my ears to guide me. "Homeless network?" John asked.

"My eyes and ears all over the city," Sherlock replied.

"Clever, so you scratch their backs and…"

"Yes, then I disinfect myself," Sherlock sighed. I giggled and watched their dark outlines. Sherlock pulled out his own flashlight and began shining it around the dark alley. I caught up to them as a distinct shadow began to climb the wall ahead of us. We all scrambled to hide behind a nearby wall. I peeked around Sherlock to watch the shadow. The man was well over seven feet tall, and I sucked in a quiet gasp. Sherlock glanced at me before returning his gaze to the shadow. "What's he sleeping rough for?" John hissed at us.

"Distinctive look like that, he needs to hide somewhere where tongues won't wag-much," he hissed back. I listened to John swear softly and rummage around in his pockets. Sherlock pulls out a gun and handed it to him. "Don't mention it," he hissed. I smirked at him and peeked around at the shadow once more. I hissed loudly as the shadow began to run. We all took off after it, and I was much faster than the boys. My trainers smacked the pavement and I could hear the boys chasing me. I shouted in dismay when the sound of tires squealing echoed down the alley. "No!" Sherlock shouted as he pulled up beside me. I was bent over with my hands on my knees, trying to calm my racing heart. "It'll take us weeks to find him again," Sherlock said angrily.

"No it won't. I have an idea of where he might be going," John replied.

"What?"

"Someone left Alex Woodbridge a message. There can't be many Professor Cairns in the book. Let's go," John said with a grin. We headed back to the main street, and Sherlock hailed a cab. He always got one on the first try because he was noticeable. The three of us piled in, and we took off for the planetarium.

When we arrived, John picked up the taxi fare, and we jogged inside. The sights and sound were overwhelming. My senses were jammed. A massive man was suffocating a woman at the control podium. "Golem!" Sherlock shouted as John aimed his gun at the man. I screeched in surprise as he snapped the woman's neck and left her. Her fingers had dragged along the controls once more, and it had sent us all into darkness. I kept my eyes on the giant man as he ducked out of sight. "John!" I called out.

"I'll go! I can't see him!" John replied anxiously. I glanced around wildly as John took off after the assassin. The room was in chaos and my heart was pounding in my ears. "Who are you working for this time, Dzundza?" Sherlock shouted. I screamed as the Golem grabbed me in a choke hold from behind. He lifted me from the ground and I began to gasp for breath. My brain immediately supplied ways to escape. I swung my legs forward and slammed them into his kneecaps, which forced him to drop me. I landed in a heap and immediately rolled as he lunged for me. "Sherlock!" I squealed as he clamped a massive hand on my right thigh. The Golem tried to get his other hand to my thigh to snap the bone, but I began flailing. I smiled when Sherlock tackled the man to the ground. The Golem flipped them over and began choking Sherlock. John arrived and level his pistol at the man. "Let him go, or I will kill you," he threatened. I rolled my eyes and lunged for the man. I knocked him off and we set to rolling around on the floor in a massive pile of flailing limbs. I gasped as his fist connected with my solar plexus. "Oh my God," I panted out as I struggled to breathe. John had launched himself onto the back of the massive man. Sherlock scrambled over to us and went to swing a punch. He instead received a massive blow to his shoulder and landed on me. I shoved him off in a panic and gasped. My lungs felt like they were caving in. The Golem managed to shake off John and slid him across the room. Sherlock was also thrown, but he managed to retrieve John's dropped pistol. I panicked as the Golem approached me, but he noticed Sherlock had the gun. The Golem sprinted towards the exit and Sherlock fired two shots, missing each.

I laid on the floor, my heart racing as I continued to struggle to breathe. "John," Sherlock said while crawling towards me. Sherlock met my gaze for a moment before John arrived. "I need to see the wound," John sighed. Sherlock grunted and grabbed the front of my shirt. He shredded it down the middle and I whimpered. "That was one of my favorites," I managed to gasp out between my struggling breaths.

"Not important," John muttered. My eyes widened as I saw the flowering black bruise on my abdomen. "Oh," I gasped softly.

"I need you to calm down. I promise, nothing is broken. You're having a panic attack," John said slowly. I continued to gasp, and my heart beat loudly in my ears. Sherlock sighed softly as he recognized the sheer terror in my eyes. He reached out his hands to grab my face. "Calm down," he said with our eyes locked. I was immediately lost in them. I was wrong about them. They held so much warmth and heart. He had covered it with a horrible personality. "Can't," I gasped. He gripped my face harder and looked over at John. He was watching our exchange with a small quirk to his lips. "Stop smirking," I gasped. John frowned at me and leaned towards me. "Please Jamie. You'll pass out," John insisted.

"I can't," I gasped. My heart was racing out of control. I was starting to get tunnel vision. Sherlock sighed, clearly frustrated, and yanked me up and into his arms. "Listen to my heart, breath, anything. Find a steady beat. Sync your body to it," he demanded. I curled up in his lap and pressed my ear to his chest, still struggling for precious oxygen. He caged me in his arms, and my mind was immediately eased. I listened to the steady rhythm of his heart. It was strong, constant. I closed my eyes and concentrated on that sound. My heart began to slow, and I found myself beginning to breathe again. I sucked in deep breaths as my lungs opened. "You're safe," Sherlock sighed. I whimpered in response. My chest was aching. "It hurts," I whined.

"That's inconsequential. Pain is meaningless," Sherlock said. John scooted closer to us and settled a warm hand on my back. "Thank you," I whispered. I shivered as the cold air hit me. "We need to get to the Gallery. Are you okay now, Jamie?" Sherlock asked carefully.

"A few more minutes," I begged. I snuggled closer into his chest. I had never felt so calm and safe. Not even when my big brother would come in to my room to chase the nightmares away. My arms has snaked their way around his waist, and I gripped my right wrist in my left hand. "I'm ready now," I sighed and released him. I leaned back on my left palm after I had settled on the floor next to Sherlock, and used my right hand to probe my wound. I didn't feel anything rolling under my fingers and sighed in relief. "Nothing is broken," I declared.

"Told you," John said from Sherlock's other side.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi guys! This is my first fic, so be kind please. Any sort of feedback and such is greatly appreciated, though. I'll try to be regular with the postings and stuff, and since it's summertime it shouldn't be much of an issue. Anywho, I hope you like the rest of this.**

Chapter 6

It took us several minutes to get out of the planetarium. Every step was agonizing. John had given me his jumper to cover my shredded shirt, and it swallowed me. Sherlock hailed a cab easily, and we climbed in. I curled up against John's side and fell asleep before we even merged into the London traffic. John had tucked his arm around me and leaned his head on top of mine.

When we arrived back at Baker Street, I was shaken awake. I stumbled out of the taxi and rubbed my eyes. "Carry me," I whined. Sherlock sighed and crouched down in front of me so I could climb on his back. I wrapped my arms around his chest and he grabbed underneath my knees. John went to open the front door, and Sherlock lifted me from the ground. I sighed contentedly and snuggled my face into his shoulders. He carried me inside and up the stairs. "You can sleep in my bed tonight," he said as he entered the flat. "I won't sleep,"

"Okay," I sighed, too tired to argue. He carried me to his room and set me down on the floor. I rubbed my eyes and flopped down onto his mattress. He gave me a brief smile before leaving the room. I tucked my knees up under John's jumper and pulled the covers up to tuck around me too. I fell asleep easily after that.

I woke up the next morning with strong arms wrapped around my waist. I blinked the sleep from eyes and looked behind me. Sherlock had come in sometime during the night, and was now curled up against me. "I thought you didn't sleep on cases," I muttered.

"I'm awake," he sighed back. I drummed my fingers on his interlocked hands and sighed. "I feel like I got hit by a truck," I said. He snorted a laugh at that and buried his face between my shoulder blades. "We need to go to the gallery," he said, his voice muffled.

"Don't wait for me. You go. I'm sore," I muttered as I sunk further into the pillows.

"Sherlock?" John asked as he walked into the room. I looked over Sherlock at him and flashed him a small smile. "Oh, hello, Jamie," John said slowly. He scanned us with his eyes slowly. I settled back on the pillow and drummed my fingers on Sherlock's pale hands once more. "What are you guys doing?" John finally asked.

"I was sleeping," I responded.

"I was bored," Sherlock replied immediately after me. John sighed and sat on the end of the bed. We were silent for several moments after that. I shut my eyes and tried to ignore the pain in my chest. "You boys go on ahead to the gallery. I need to sleep more," I muttered softly.

"Okay," John sighed. "Can I look at your bruise?"

"Sure," I replied. I gripped Sherlock's wrists and pulled his arms off of me so I could stand. I hissed at the pain as I slowly rose to my feet. Sherlock rolled over onto his back and watched me struggle to pull John's jumper off. "Damn," I hissed. I couldn't raise my arms above my head. "A little help would be nice," I finally said after several moments of struggling. John and Sherlock both came forward to help, but John was faster. He carefully grabbed the hem of the jumper and lifted it so I could pull my arms out, and then he pulled it over my head. "Thank you," I said. I glanced down at the tattered remains of my shirt and gasped at the sight of my abdomen. I lifted my finger to trace the wound. "Oh," I said softly. It spread out in black and purple splotches from my solar plexus. I glanced up at John and caught the sympathy in his eyes before looking to Sherlock. He was frowning and his eyes were focused on my bruise. I didn't feel self-conscious though. "Any breathing problems?" John asked, full doctor mode.

"Just soreness," I replied after taking a deep breath. "It really hurts,"

"It will for a while. Take it easy," John sighed. He smiled briefly at me before turning to leave Sherlock's room. Sherlock was still analyzing my bruise and hardly noticed him leave. "You okay?" I asked after a minute. He didn't reply. "Sherlock?" I tried again. Nothing. "Shezza," I sighed as I walked around the bed towards him. He shook his head and watched me. "Where'd you go?" I asked with a smirk.

"My mind palace,"

"Mind palace?" I asked slowly.

"A mental map. I catalogue everything that I need in rooms. Useless information is deleted. Mine just happens to be a palace," Sherlock explained. I nodded slowly and headed out of his room. John handed me a cup of tea as I walked past him, and I grinned in thanks. I walked out of their flat and headed down the stairs, cradling the cup of tea in my cold fingers. I walked into 221A and immediately headed for the bedroom. I grabbed a pair of shorts and a button-up shirt. I smirked as I headed into the bathroom to shower. I avoided looking at myself in the mirror as I set my cup on the edge of the sink. I turned on the water and began the struggle of removing my clothes. I sighed contentedly as I stepped under the spray.

It took me longer than usual to scrub my body clean, and I struggled to clip my bra on even more. "I will not call for help," I said in a mantra out loud. I gritted my teeth and fought to do the clasp. Excruciating pain flared up and I resisted the urge to cry out. "No," I whined. "I don't need them," I sighed in relief as the stubborn clasp finally hooked. I easily pulled on the button-up and my shorts. The building was quiet when I left the bathroom with my hair loose and dripping down my back. I couldn't hear the boys upstairs, so they must have left. I finished my cold cup of tea, and set it in the sink. I would return it later. I wandered around the flat for awhile, picking up little pieces of trash and cleaning where it needed to be done. I then headed up the stairs to clean their flat.

Room by room, I cleaned the entire building. It was hard work and took me a lot longer than I expected when I started. I had set up my radio in the entrance hall so I could hear it wherever I was cleaning. I wound up sprawled out on the sofa in 221B just before nightfall. I had my coat on and had pulled on a pair of sleeping pants because it was freezing in their flat. I curled up on my side and hugged my knees. My chest ached. It was a dull throbbing pain, but flared up whenever I moved the wrong way. John had left some painkillers out on the counter and I had taken them regularly all day. It dulled the pain greatly, but didn't whisk it away. I pulled out my phone and held it up so I could see it. "Guess they're busy," I muttered. I rolled over so I was facing the back of the couch and sighed. The song changed and I groaned loudly. It was an obnoxious number that made me want to remove my ears. I got up and stomped down the stairs to turn it off. "Shhh," I sighed and waved my hand at the radio before heading back up.

It wasn't too long after I had settled back on their couch that they came home. "Hello boys," I said with a small smile from my position on the couch. I watched John walk over to his computer and Sherlock to the telly. "How are you feeling?" John asked as he signed on.

"Like an elephant trampled me," I replied with a smirk. Sherlock turned on the telly and curled up in the chair. He had turned on some crap show, and I groaned softly. It was a mistake to get him into the shows in a first place. "No no no! Of course he's not the boy's father! Look at the turn-ups on his jeans!" Sherlock shouted while gesturing at the telly.

"Knew it was dangerous," John sighed without looking up from his computer.

"What?" Sherlock said with his eyes glued to the screen.

"Getting you into crap telly," John replied. I smiled at that and closed my eyes. "Have you given Mycroft the memory stick yet?" I asked with my eyes still closed.

"Yep. He was over the moon. Threatened me with a knighthood- again," Sherlock replied.

"Good," I sighed. I relaxed as silence fell over the room. I opened my eyes to the sound of John shutting his laptop and rising from his chair. "I'm going over to Sarah's, there's some of that risotto left in the fridge," John said. Sherlock hummed in response. I slowly uncurled myself from the sofa, and stood. "I have work," I sighed. I walked over to John and kissed his cheek. I then bent down to kiss Sherlock's temple before heading down to 221A to change.

It was strangely quiet on the street as I walked to Skippy's. I couldn't shake this feeling that someone was following me. "So cliche," I sighed before deciding to ignore the feeling. I wasn't too far from the bar when I heard it. The sound of a foot scraping on pavement. Next thing I knew, I was pinned to the ground. "Get off," I grunted as I struggled. My attacker easily subdued me. Strangely, I wasn't afraid. I let them tie my hands behind my back and haul me up. They pushed me in the opposite direction of the bar towards a car that was idle in an alley. My attacker silently led me to the trunk and lifted it open. "In," he said in a gruff voice. I sighed softly and ignored the command. The man shoved me impatiently. "If you want me in there, you're gonna have to knock me out. I don't do small spaces," I replied with a smirk. The man grunted in response before swinging the butt of a pistol I didn't know he had at my head. I was on the ground instantly. The last thing I remembered before the darkness consumed me was being lifted from the ground.

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When I came to, I couldn't feel my hands. I opened my eyes and blinked slowly before peering around the room. It was dingy and large. The floor was concrete and there was a drain in the center. Handcuffs were tightened on my wrists uncomfortably and I was hanging from the wall. I was close enough to the ground to touch it with my toes. I groaned softly and tested the handcuffs. They were padlocked to the wall. "Oh, hello, sweetie," I gruff male voice said from across the room. He emerged from the shadows and approached me slowly. I watched him through blurry eyes. "Cat got your tongue?" he chuckled slowly. I glared at him and tugged on my chains. "Uncomfortable?" he asked while peering at me. I couldn't see his face, but I could see his eyes. They were dark and filled with mirth. I tugged on my chains some more, and soon my wrists were rubbed raw. "Why didn't you struggle?" the man asked slowly. He had stopped inches away from me and his disgustingly hot breath fanned my face. I looked up at him and grinned. "I don't need to," I hissed. His face sunk into a glare and I could see him ball his fists. "Hit me," I taunted. "Pain is meaningless,"

"Why don't you need to struggle?" he hissed. He grabbed my chin roughly and yanked my head up to peer into my eyes. I grinned some more. He snarled in response and his fist slammed into my stomach. I barely flinched. His rage grew and his fists started slamming into whatever patch of skin he could reach. I was gasping for breath when he finally stopped. "Answer me," he ordered.

"I have the world's only Consulting Detective on my side," I responded before coughing up blood. I spat it at him and he flinched. "You'll regret that, sweetheart," he replied. I grunted as his fist connected with my stomach once more. I resisted a scream when he slammed into my bruise. "Enjoying yourself?" I teased.

"Certainly," he replied. I smiled at him. "Stop that," he said angrily.

"Stop what?" I replied.

"Smiling," he replied. Before I had time to prepare he slammed his knee into my chest. A scream ripped it's way out of my throat. "Where's your Consulting Detective, now?" he teased. tears had pooled in my eyes, but I refused to let them spill. "He's hunting for you. You'll regret this," I replied. He chucked and slammed his fist into my temple, knocking me out.

I came to several hours later and blinked open my eyes. I studied the room and noticed a camera set up on a tripod. I chuckled and pulled on my chains. My wrists were bleeding now and blood was running down my arms in sticky streams. "Oh, sweetie, you're bleeding," a voice said from the darkness. "Your Sherlock Holmes won't approve." I whipped my head up to stare at him. "Yes, I know his name. I've known all along. Too bad you won't see him or John Watson ever again," he said darkly.

"Yes, I will," I replied. "He needs me." He laughed openly at that before sauntering over. "Come to hit me some more?" I asked.

"Would you like that?"

"If I say 'yes', I look like a psychopath, and if I say 'no' you're guaranteed to hit me again. So, I'm going to say 'yes' in the hope that it unnerves you," I replied casually.

"Well your hope is wasted," he replied before slamming a fist directly into my solar plexus. I screamed and struggled desperately. "Little sore? I heard the Golem left a mark on you," he taunted. Tears ran down my cheeks and my breath was coming in gasps. "Cry, cry, cry," he teased before punching me once more.

"What do you want?" I sobbed.

"You're collateral. We have to be sure that Sherlock delivers the memory stick," he replied with a smirk.

"He won't. He gave it to Mycroft," I gasped.

"No, he kept it. Posted on his blog about it. He's going to deliver the Bruce-Partington plans tonight at the pool," he said slowly. "And you're going to insure he delivers," He produced a knife from inside of his jacket and I panicked. "No, no, no," I muttered in a mantra while struggling with my bonds.

"Scared?" he teased as he fiddled with the blade of the knife. He brought it slowly forward, the blade poised to plunge below my naval. "Stop," I grunted and swung my hips out of the way. He chuckled. "Beg," he ordered as the blade slowly pressed into my skin. "Oh wait, that shirt is a hindrance," I gasped as he whipped his hands up to yank on the front of my shirt. The buttons went flying. "Oooh that is a nasty bruise," he tsked. He resumed pressing the blade into my navel. "Beg," he commanded. I shook my head no and screamed as he quickly jerked the blade. I plunged into my skin and blood pooled around the wound. "Sherlock!" I screamed as loud as I could. I cried openly as he removed the blade and my sobs hurt my chest. Blood was dripping down my front, staining my brown slacks red. "Scream for him, doll," he taunted. I gasped and turned my head up to stare at him. Jim's face immediately flashed into my mind. He walked away briefly and returned with a pad of cloth and gauze. "Can't have you dying yet," he said. He pressed the cloth to my wound and hastily wrapped the gauze around my hips. "I can see why they like you," he said slowly. He stepped back and admired his work. "Feeling dizzy? That's quite a bit of blood," he asked, his face screwed up in a demented form of compassion. I turned my gaze to the floor, showing that I had given up. "Oh no, doll, don't give up!" he exclaimed.

"I'm not," I grunted before pulling my chains taught to swing my legs at him. He chuckled as he dodged my feet. "That wasn't very nice," he scolded. He swung his fist and this time it cracked into my cheek. My head whipped to the left and I bit my tongue to resist crying out. I turned back to look at him and he grinned at me like nothing has happened. "You've been in my care for six hours now, would you like a bathroom break?" he said.

"If you would," I replied. He chuckled and reached up to undo my chains. I rubbed my wrists as he pulled me by my right bicep across the room and out into the hallway. It was equally dank and the floors were cold under my bare feet. I shuffled along slowly, my injuries throbbing along with my heartbeat. He pulled me to a stop at the third door on the right and looked at me expectantly. "You have four minutes. Make it quick," he said before releasing me. I stumbled into the small room and grimaced. It was filthy. The walls and floor were coated in many unidentifiable substances. The mirror was cracked and hanging off of it's mounts. I shuffled over to the toilet and peered at it. It was the cleanest thing in the room. I snorted softly and did my business. I shuffled back out after redoing the surviving buttons on my top. My captor smiled at me and grabbed my arm to lead me back. "If we're going to be spending and extended period of time together, can I know your name?" I said slowly without bothering to look at him.

"Call me Ethan," he said as he pulled me back into the large room with the drain in the center.

"Can I have some water, Ethan?" I said as he tugged me towards the hook on the wall.

"No," he said with a small smile. He pressed me against the wall and yanked my right arm up to secure it. He did the same with the left and backed away. "I'll be back soon. Have to make a phone call," he said and left the room. I took the opportunity to study the room. The camera was still trained on me and I could see the light that indicated it was recording. I turned my gaze to my chains and frowned. There weren't any loose or rusted parts. They were the newest things in the room. "Fancy," I sighed. I shifted my weight from my wrists to my toes and grunted. This new position put a strain on my stab wound. I could see red soaked on the bandage and it had begun to bleed through onto my shirt. "Fucking fantastic," I sighed.

"What is, sweetie?" Ethan asked as he sauntered back into the room.

"Oh, just bleeding on my shirt now," I replied.

"I can fix that," he said while pulling the blood-soaked blade back out. He made a few cuts and the remains of my shirt fell to the floor. "An improvement, really," he said as he studied my exposed skin. "You need a few more wounds. And your back is a blank canvas." I glared at him and grimaced when he brushed a finger over my extensive bruising. "You're completely at my mercy until Sherlock Holmes delivers those plans," he taunted as he pressed his hand flat to the largest part of my bruising. "I have yet to break bones."

"Sherlock will kill you" I spat. He chuckled for a moment, then his face changed. He pushed me roughly and my back slammed into the wall. "I could kill you. Or take you. You can't fight me," he hissed. He pressed his body against mine and I leaned my face away from him. "I'm not scared," I replied.

"I don't believe you," he whispered. He pulled away and strutted over to the camera. He picked it up from the tripod and carried it back over to me. "I want you to scream. Scream for Sherlock Holmes. Scream for John Watson," he said leisurely and pressed the blade to my shoulder. I bit my lip as the blade bit into my skin.

**And to my first review ever by The7Solution: I thank you for those kind words, they made me want to cry tears of joy. And ask and ye shall receive. :) **


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

I had finally passed out after twelve agonizingly slow plunges of the knife. He had turned me around at around number seven. I had started screaming at eight. I screamed obscenities. I screamed for Sherlock. I screamed for John. I screamed for my whole family. He had bound my wounds and left me there covered in blood. "Sherlock has delivered after we showed him our fun," Ethan had announced right before the blackness consumed me.

I woke up and knew instantly I was somewhere else. I peeked my eyes open and glanced around. I was on a hospital bed in a white room. A slow beeping noise was coming from somewhere on my left. A clock ticked on the wall. I sucked in a breath and cried out. My voice echoed around the empty room. "Sherlock!" I screamed. A man dressed in a typical doctor's uniform walked in after that. I studied him and shrunk away when he approached. "Where is Sherlock Holmes?" I snarled. "I need him."

"You can't see him yet. We have to observe you for a little while longer. You should sleep," he replied with a kind smile. He reached out a hand, intending to pat my uninjured shoulder and I jerked away. "Please don't. I just need my boys," I whispered.

"You can have visitors in an hour. Sleep some more, and it'll pass by quickly," he promised. I watched him walk out of the room and shut my eyes. I soon drifted off into the tale end of my drug induced sleep.

I woke up and immediately looked around. Sherlock and John were there. I immediately lunged out to them and pulled them closer. They circled their arms around me carefully and I sighed happily. "How are you feeling?" John asked, ever the compassionate doctor.

"Aweful," I replied with my face buried in his neck. They released me at the same time and Sherlock walked around to sit in a chair on my left side. John sat on my right and they both studied me. "What happened?" I asked carefully.

"Well, we finally know who Moriarty is. He had decked me out in explosives and sent me in to talk to Sherlock. Moriarty had spared us after Sherlock had pointed the gun at the bomb vest," John explained carefully. I nodded slowly and turned my gaze to Sherlock. "How bad am I?" I asked.

"You have extensive bruising, a fractured cheekbone, and thirteen stab wounds. They don't suspect any sexual assault, and you managed to keep your shoulders in socket. They stitched up all of your wounds, but the idiot doctor suspects the wound below your navel will prevent you from conceiving in the future," Sherlock said bluntly.

"I can't have kids?" I asked with a distressed tone in my voice.

"They're disgusting anyways," Sherlock muttered. I sucked in a breath and blew it out. "I wanted kids," I whispered.

"Why?" Sherlock asked while clearly revolted.

"It's a girl thing. You definitely wouldn't understand, Shezza," I muttered. John grabbed my hand and laced his fingers through mine. I turned to look at him and forced a smile. I felt like I was slowly falling apart on the inside. "How do you do it, John?" I asked softly.

"Do what?"

"Survive. Push past this. I don't think I can walk outside without jerking away from everyone who comes close to me," I sighed.

"You immediately grabbed for us," Sherlock pointed out.

"I trust you. Both of you," I replied.

"Well, I just learned to face my issues head-on. It got much easier after the first few months," John said in response to my question. I nodded to him and slowly eased down to lie on my back. "When can I come back to Baker Street?" I said through a yawn.

"The doctor said you can come home in three to five days. Though you'll have to take it easy. You'll be healing for a long time," John said slowly. "No stairs."

"I can't come bug you?" I whined.

"Of course you can. Mrs. Hudson is coming home on the day you are. You'll have to stay in our flat," John said with a grin. I snorted a laugh and smiled back at him. I yawned again. "You sleep now, Jamie. Lestrade is going to come by tomorrow and get your statement. We'll be here. No worries," John said softly. I nodded and slowly drifted off into oblivion once more.

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I wound up having to stay much longer than three days. Healing is absolutely boring. Sherlock and John had managed to sneak in my favorite tea though. I was lounging on my hospital bed with Sherlock curled up at my feet like a cat. John had dragged Sherlock's chair around to prop his feet up on. We were all watching crap telly. I sipped the tea that was cradled in my hands periodically and sighed softly. "I'm bored," Sherlock and I said at the same time. John looked at us both and rolled his eyes. He turned his gaze back to the telly. I sighed and swung my legs off the side of the bed. "Where are you going?" John asked. I stood from my bed and wobbled slightly. "I said I was bored," I muttered as I startled shuffling towards the wheelchair across the room. Sherlock stood and reached to place his hands on my waist. "I got it. You can wheel me around," I grunted and smacked his hands away. I eased into the wheelchair and Sherlock threw the blanket from the bed over my legs. John looked at us disapprovingly. "Can we go see Molly? I like her," I pleaded. I had met Molly yesterday. She was adorably sweet, and I could tell she had a crush on Sherlock. "No you may not," John said while standing to come and stop Sherlock from pushing me out of the room.

"Please, John?" I begged.

"No,"

"Please?" I whined. I clasped my fingers together and gave him a pleading face. "Fine. If you get caught, don't come to me," John sighed. I grinned and let Sherlock roll me from the room.

"Hurry!" I squealed as we turned a corner. We had made it to the level the lab was on without any problems, but that had changed quickly. Sherlock glanced around before rolling me into a long hallway. "Back entrance," he muttered. I smiled and he pulled me to a stop in front of a set of double doors. "Well?" I asked slowly, tilting my head back to look at him. He gave me a half smile before pushing me through the doors. Molly was peering into a microscope across the room, but looked up when she saw us. "Hey Molly!" I said with a goofy grin.

"What are you doing out of bed?" she asked as she walked towards us.

"Shezza and I were bored. Went on an adventure. John's pouting in my room," I responded. Molly's smile faltered when I said Sherlock's nickname, but she quickly recovered. "Why is John pouting?" Molly asked slowly.

"He lost to Jamie's pleading," Sherlock responded smoothly. I grinned some more and nodded. Molly giggled softly and came around the back of my chair to wheel me farther into the lab. She showed me all of her cool lab equipment while Sherlock sat at the counter and peered into the microscope. "Shezza!" I said in a singsong voice after my hour long tour of the lab.

"What?" Sherlock grunted.

"I want some chips. Can you bring me some tomorrow?" I asked. He leaned back from the microscope and looked at me. I grinned at him. "I'll get John to go get some soon," he responded.

"He doesn't have to. That's not fair," I said with a slight frown.

"He'll do whatever you ask," Sherlock replied with a smirk. He effectively ended the conversation when he turned back to his microscope. I pondered what he said for several minutes. It was true though. John was very kind, and he made sure I was always happy. I slowly started to frown. I had never returned the favor. "Molly?" I asked slowly.

"Yes?" she asked from across the lab. She was fiddling with some weird liquids. "When I'm not all bleeding and bruised, we should go get drunk," I said with a small smirk.

"O-okay?" she said slowly. I grinned at that and wheeled myself in circles for a few moments. I was getting bored again. "Jamie," Sherlock sighed and turned to stare at me.

"What? I'm bored again," I muttered.

"You're behaving like a child," Sherlock scolded.

"I got chained to a wall, beaten up, stabbed thirteen times, and I can't have kids!" I shot back. My voice had slowly risen until I was screaming at him, and on the last word, I broke into a sob. Unshed tears dripped down my cheeks as I curled up with my arms around my knees. I cried with my face buried in my knees and hiccupped every so often. Sherlock sighed and stood from his stool. He walked slowly towards me and crouched so his face was level with mine. "John is better at this," he sighed softly. "Come here." I threw my arms around his neck and buried my face into his shoulder. He patted my back awkwardly for a few moments before figuring out how to handle me. He slid his arms around me and returned the hug. "Jamie. I am sorry for what I said. I know it's hard for you. I watched it all. Every last second. I know what he did to you. I heard your screams. I watched you break. John couldn't watch the last parts. When you begged him to stop," Sherlock said softly. He rubbed his thumbs on my back slowly. My sobs died down to slow hiccups. "I can't sleep anymore. All I see is him. I've never been scared like that. I doubted myself. I never do that," I said with my voice muffled by his shoulder. Sherlock slowly sat back and pulled me down from the wheelchair. I lifted my head and looked at his face. "I don't remember getting out of that room. That's the worst part. It's like it never happened. I keep waiting to wake up still chained to that wall," I sighed. I looked over at Molly briefly. She was concentrating on her task, but I could tell she was listening by the way her back was stiff. "Do you need John?" Sherlock asked slowly, recapturing my attention.

"No, you did fine. Much better in fact," I said with a lopsided grin. I had had several breakdowns while in the hospital, and John had easily calmed me down. Sherlock had struggled with the first one until John came to his rescue. Sherlock smiled at me briefly. "Thank you," I whispered before pressing a kiss to his cheek. I stood from his grasp and flopped back into my wheelchair. Sherlock slowly stood from the floor and headed back to his microscope. I pulled my blanket closer around me and leaned on the side of the chair. I fell asleep quickly, despite my uncomfortable position.

I woke up several hours later on a sofa in a side office from Molly's lab. I glanced around and smiled. An order of chips sat on my wheelchair next to me. I reached out and touched them and grinned when I discovered they were still warm. Cold chips were horrible. I struggled to sit up and reached for the chips. I picked at them for a moment before standing to shuffle out of the door. I could see my reflection in the glass and grimaced. I looked horrible. My hospital gown hung open to reveal a hospital issue bra, panties, and bandages spotted with blood. My copper hair was limp and tangled. I was hunched over and my face was sallow and ghostly looking. I shuffled out of the office and cradled my chips in my right hand while eating with my left. Sherlock and Molly were periodically studying a microscope while John ate his own order of chips. He looked up at me and leapt up to help me. "John, I've got it," I grunted and waved him away. I shuffled into the room on shaking knees and slowly eased myself onto a stool near John. "The doctor is going to be pissed when I come back," I sighed before stuffing a chip into my mouth. I chewed slowly because my face was still sore from the beating it took. "We took care of that. He says that as long as you don't leave the hospital and come back before dinner, then you can come down here. Besides, he knows I'm a doctor," John replied. I grinned tiredly at that and stuffed more chips into my mouth. I chewed mechanically and John watched me carefully. Sherlock ignored me completely and I leaned my forehead on the table. "I feel like shit," I muttered.

"That's the medicine. You're gonna feel sick for awhile. Greasy food probably won't help," John replied. I groaned and it echoed around the room. "Jamie, be quiet," Sherlock sighed.

"No," I grunted. Sherlock sighed loudly and returned to his work. "Hey, Molly, can you help me to the bathroom? I have to pee," I asked slowly.

"Sure," She said before sliding off of her stool. She walked over to me and helped me off of my stool. I shuffled across the room and out into the hallway. I was shoeless and the floor was cold on my bare feet. It took longer than necessary to reach the bathroom because each step was agony. "Are you in pain?" Molly asked.

"Agony," I muttered back as we stepped into the bathroom. I shuffled into a stall and emerged several moments later. I washed my hands while staring blankly at my reflection. "I look awful," I sighed. "They won't let me shower."

"You don't stink," Molly said with a small smile.

"My hair," I whined.

"I have a brush in my locker. Would you like to borrow it?" Molly asked.

"I don't think I could get it through the knots.," I sighed as I dried my hands slowly. She smiled softly at that and followed me out of the bathroom. We walked back to the hallway and I hugged my arms to my chest. The hospital gown did not do much to cover me, but I didn't mind. I was comfortable in my own skin. "Would you like a jacket?" Molly asked softly from somewhere to my left.

"No, I have my blanket. I'm okay," I replied with a smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Molly said. We walked back into the lab and I could immediately feel a climate change. A storm had erupted in the room, and the center was Sherlock. He was pacing with his hands fisted into his dark curls. John looked on sadly. "Sherlock, what's wrong?" I asked carefully. It was like approaching a cornered animal. He glanced at me and immediately approached me. His eyes screamed fear, and I could see his control slipping. Molly walked around us to stand with John. They watched him approach me with worry clear on their faces. "I'm bored," he sighed before ruffling his hair once more.

"Stop, you'll mess it all up," I sighed and reached for his hands. He tensed up before letting out a sigh and dropping them to his side. I gave him a lopsided smile and stepped closer. "What do you need?" I asked softly.

"A case," he mumbled.

"Any cases lately, John?" I asked with my gaze locked on his.

"No. Nothing lately. He turns every case down," John replied with a roll of his eyes.

"Come on," I sighed before grabbing his hand. He laced his fingers with mine, which was new, and I pulled him back into the hallway. I could hear Molly ask John where I was taking him. John didn't know. I pulled Sherlock to the elevator and pressed the floor where my room was. "It's almost time for me to be back anyways," I said when the doors shut.

"What are we doing?" Sherlock asked.

"We are going to eat the nasty hospital dinner they bring me, and then we're going to play Mario Kart. John brought my Wii yesterday," I replied with a grin. Sherlock sighed, and I noticed that our hands were still locked together. I glanced up at him and he was staring blankly ahead. We reached the floor my room was on and immediately headed for it.

It took us twenty minutes to pick through the tray of food they brought me. After that, Sherlock and I situated ourselves on my hospital bed with our controllers. I wound up leaning back against his chest with his arms wrapped around in front of me. We started our first race and soon were shouting at the screen and each other. John walked in on one of our more heated arguments. "What are you two doing?" John asked from the door.

"He's being a child," I muttered before shooting a glare at Sherlock. Sherlock glared back. John sighed and walked to one of the chairs and sat down to watch. Another hour passed, and a nurse walked in. "Good, you're here. You boys have to go home, soon," she said with a small frown,

"Oh, Roxanne, can't they stay? It's my last night here," I whined.

"I'll think about it," she replied while the corners of her mouth turned up. I smiled at her and returned to the game. I wound up losing to him several times in a row, and I could feel his smugness coming off of him in waves. John had lost interest with us and was reading the newspaper in the corner. "John?" I asked slowly.

"Yeah?"

"You can go home if you want to," I said without looking away from the telly.

"You sure? Sarah's been wanting to go out," John said softly.

"Go on then," I said while fluttering my hand in his direction. I was focused on the screen and I was winning this race. John folded the newspaper and stood from his chair. "You coming, Sherlock?" John asked slowly.

"No," Sherlock said stiffly.

"Alright," John said slowly. He walked past the screen and I paused the game. He stopped and turned to look at us. "You don't have to come tomorrow. Spend the day with Sarah. I know I've been difficult. I'm sorry," I whispered.

"It's okay, Jamie. Not your fault," John said with a small smile. He walked towards the hospital bed and I reached out to hug him. I pressed a kiss to his temple and released him. "Honestly, I want you to spend the day with Sarah," I said.

"Okay," he sighed before walking to the door. "Goodbye."

"Bye, John," I called. I unpaused the game and won the race with ease. I sighed and turned to look at Sherlock. "Are you staying?" I asked with a smile.

"You did ask the nurse if we could, but since John has left, I assume you still wish me to stay?"

"You assume correctly. I can't sleep here. It's awful," I said with a frown.

"Why?"

"It's not Baker Street. It's not my parent's house. It's an uncomfortable hospital bed in a room that's too white,"

"You haven't slept in here the entire two weeks they kept you?"

"Maybe an hour or two every day,"

"And me being here helps, how?"

"I don't know," I sighed. I set the controller down on the chair that was still up next to the bed, and maneuvered myself so I was lying next to Sherlock. He was still propped up, and my head was resting on his chest over his heart. He slowly wrapped an arm around my back and we both glanced up when the door opened. Roxanne walked back in and smiled when she saw us. "He can stay," she sighed. I grinned and blew her a kiss. She chuckled and fussed around with the things beside the sink in the room. "I need to change your bandages," she announced. "Can you stand up?" I groaned and rolled so my feet were dangling off the side of the bed. Roxanne walked around the end of the bed as I pushed myself onto my shaking legs. She stood before me and I pulled off the hospital gown so she could unwrap the bindings on my abdomen. "Oh, hello skin," I sighed softly as the white bandages slowly fell away. My skin was pale and I had gentle curves. She finished unwrapping and changed the bandages on all of my stab wounds. "He really got you didn't he," she tsked softly. I squeezed my eyes shut as the memories flooded me. I could see his face grinning at me as he pushed the blade into my skin over and over. I let out a soft sob and Sherlock immediately reacted. He stood from the bed and moved towards me. Roxanne moved out of the way and Sherlock pulled me into his chest. "You are here at St. Bart's. He is not. You are safe," he said into my ear as he pushed on the back of my neck. My face was buried into the crook of his neck and I reached my arms up to bury them inside his jacket. The memories assaulted me once more and I set out another sob. "Jamie, " Sherlock sighed.

"I'll come back in a few moments. I'm sorry," Roxanne said before walking out of the room.

"I'm so tired of being afraid, Shezza. I feel like it's suffocating me. I want to go home," I sobbed.

"You only have to stay one more night. Then you can come home to Baker Street," Sherlock said softly.

"When does the fear go away?"

"When you learn to deal with it. Lock the memories away. Push them as far to the back of your mind as you can," Sherlock suggested. I blew out the breath I had been holding and tried to forget everything that had happened. I found all of the memories of the event and locked them away in a box that I shipped to the extremely far reaches of my mind. I leaned my face back to look at Sherlock and saw him regarding me carefully. "You are tired. I'll get the nurse to finish, and then you can sleep," Sherlock said while releasing me. I stepped back so he could go and retrieve Roxanne.

It didn't take long to have my bandages rewrapped, and I was soon sprawled out on the bed. A new white bandage had been wrapped around my abdomen and I picked at the edges boredly. "Go to sleep, Jamie," Sherlock said from his place by the window. He was looking out at the rain pelting the street below. I glance over at him and sighed. "I'm not tired," I muttered.

"Not true,"

"I'm not," I whined. Sherlock turned around and smirked at me. "Don't," I muttered.

"You are tired. Dark circles underneath your eyes tell me you haven't had a real rest in days. Your eyes are watering, so you must be fighting back yawns. You're irritable, another sign of lack of sleep. And now you're scowling at me, which tells me that I am right," Sherlock said quickly. My scowl deepened and I rolled over onto my stomach. I fought down another yawn, but lost that battle. It echoed around the room and Sherlock smirked in satisfaction. He walked over to the chair beside my bed and I was asleep a few minutes after that.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello again! I'll just leave these next few here, and hope you guys enjoy. Reviews are always nice, but not obligatory! **

Chapter 8

I woke up the next day and fought the urge to stretch because I still had over 300 stitches. I blinked the sleep from my eyes and glanced around. Sherlock had fallen asleep with his head on the bed and my fingers were tangled in his dark curls. "Shezza," I said loudly as I pulled my fingers away gently. He opened his eyes and they slowly came into focus. He sat up and looked around. "Time to go?" he asked slowly.

"As soon as I call Roxanne," I said as a grin spread on my lips. He smiled back at me briefly before standing and heading to the bathroom. I pushed the call button on the side of the bed and waited. Roxanne appeared several minutes later pushing a wheelchair. "Ready to go home?" she asked with a kind smile. I nodded eagerly and she helped me down from the bed. She unwrapped all of my bandages and disposed of them. "Have you spotted anymore bleeding?" she asked as I pulled my hospital gown closed.

"Nope," I sighed. She grinned at that and helped me into my wheelchair. I studied her as she laid the blanket carefully across my bare legs. She was in her late forties with brown hair that was beginning to turn grey. Her baby blue eyes were clear and she wore her emotions plainly on her face. Sherlock was buttoning his coat behind us as Roxanne rolled me down the hallway. "Molly will drive us back to Baker Street," Sherlock said as we moved into the elevator. He pressed the button for the level with the lab and we began our descent.

It took longer than necessary for us all to pile into Molly's car, but soon we were on our way back to Baker Street. Sherlock pulled my phone from his coat pocket and handed it to me. I grinned at him and began to check my various messages. My older brother had texted me eighteen times, my mother had sent sixteen, and my neighbor had sent four. I sighed and began to type a response to each. To my brother I said

**I am heading back to Baker Street now. Come by and see me tomorrow. I am much better now. **

To my mother I said

**Mum, I am much better now. Please stop worrying. Patrick can bring you by tomorrow. **

And to my neighbor I said

**I'm doing much better now, thank you. **

I switched my phone off and set it on my thigh. Roxanne had kept the blanket so I was stuck in my hospital gown and underwear. They had thrown my clothes away, and I hadn't bothered to ask John or Sherlock to bring me some new ones. I looked out the window and smiled when we approached Baker Street. "Would you like my jacket, Jamie?" Sherlock asked.

"If you would be so kind. I don't need all the questions," I sighed. He pulled off his coat and handed it to me. I smiled gratefully at him and leaned forward to pull it on. The sleeves were too long for me, but I didn't mind. Molly pulled the car to a stop in front of our building and Sherlock climbed out. He stepped around to help me, and kept a hand on the small of my back. "Oh, Jamie!" I heard a feminine voice call from the sidewalk. I looked up and smiled at Mrs Hudson. Sherlock grabbed my elbows to lift me up onto the curb easily. "Thank you," I said with a small smile. Mrs. Hudson walked closer and carefully hugged me. I smiled as I wrapped my arms around her small frame. "How was your vacation?" I asked when she released me.

"Wonderful. But, that's not important right now. Look at your face, dearie," she sighed and brushed a finger over my cheek. I grimaced and fought the flood of memories. They always fought to the surface whenever someone mentioned my injuries. "Let's get you inside," Mrs. Hudson said and stepped to my other side so we could walk into the building.

"Did you get the windows fixed?" I asked as the door shut behind us.

"Yes, we did, darling," Mrs. Hudson said. She started to lead the way up the stairs, but stopped when I hesitated. I stared up at the top and sighed. "I can't rip my stitches," I muttered. Sherlock sighed from behind me and swept me up into his arms, bridal style. Mrs. Hudson smiled a knowing smile and began to ascend the stairs once more. I let Sherlock carry me all the way up, and then he set me down on my feet in the middle of 221B. "Thanks," I sighed. I immediately headed for the couch and flopped down with my legs stretched out in front of me. Mrs. Hudson headed into the kitchen to make tea. I sunk down further into the couch, still wrapped up in Sherlock's coat. Sherlock came over to me and sat on the coffee table. I looked over at him and met his eyes. "How are you feeling?" I asked softly.

"Bored," he muttered. I grinned at that and wrapped my arms around my chest. Sherlock's coat was still warm, and I was completely comfortable. "My mum and brother are coming by to see me tomorrow. Please behave," I said. "Don't scare them."

"How would I scare them?" Sherlock asked slowly, a perplexed look on his face.

"Well, that big brain of yours. The 'you're all idiots' attitude. The deducing. Just don't," I sighed.

"I can't turn it off,"

"I'm not asking you to. I'm asking you to not say it all out loud," I said with a small frown. He steepled his fingers in front of his mouth and receded into his mind. I rolled my eyes at him and looked around for Mrs. Hudson. She was walking towards us carrying a mug of tea. I grinned at her as she handed it to me. "Thank you," I sighed gratefully. I sipped the tea and watched Sherlock. His lips were parted slightly as he thought, and he stared at a place above my head. My eyes roamed casually over his form. He was thin, but I knew of the hidden strength. He had on black trousers and a white shirt with the top button undone. His dark hair was a striking contrast to his pale complexion. He unknowingly drew the eye when he entered a room. He was arrogant, irritatingly so, but it was just a part of who he was. I smiled at him when he came back into focus. "Welcome back," I said with a smirk before sipping my tea.

"Where's John?" he asked slowly while glancing around behind him.

"He's on a date with Sarah. Won't be home until later," I replied. He turned back around to stare at me blankly. I sipped some more of my tea and stared right back at him. "Sherlock, what's wrong?" I sighed finally.

"I'm bored. I need a case," he muttered.

"Call Lestrade," I suggested. He shook his head, his curls bouncing wildly on his head, and stood. He walked to his bedroom and slammed the door. "What did you say to him, dearie?" Mrs. Hudson asked from the kitchen.

"Nothing. He's bored. No cases and John isn't here," I sighed.

"What's wrong with John not being here?" she asked carefully.

"John usually finds something to entertain him. Doesn't last, but it's something," I muttered before finishing my tea. "Can you find me some clothes?"

"Your things are still in my flat. I'll get you some comfortable clothes," she said before heading down the stairs. She came back up after a few minutes and I smiled gratefully. she handed me a shirt and my sweatpants. I stood up slowly and pulled Sherlock's coat off. I then undid the ties on the hospital gown and let that drop to the sofa. Mrs. Hudson gasped when she saw the extent of my wounds. "Oh, dear," she whispered with her fingers covering her lips. I frowned and stepped into the bottoms first. I pulled them up and they hung loosely on my hips. I turned around to show her my back and heard another gasp. "The deepest one is below my navel," I said slowly. I turned back around to point to the wound and looked up when Sherlock reemerged from his bedroom. His eyes immediately found me and they lingered on my bruised skin before he turned to head into the kitchen. I watched him set up for an experiment and reached for my shirt. "Little help?" I asked the room. I still couldn't lift my arms up to pull on shirts. Sherlock was immediately at my side and took the shirt from me. He carefully helped me into it, and I avoided meeting either of their eyes. I sat back down on the sofa carefully, and they headed back to their business. I fell asleep in the silence of the room.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Several days passed. Baker Street had many visitors, all wanting to consult with Sherlock. He turned many down, but on the few he selected, he solved quickly. John would come home each night, and Sherlock would question him about his blog. I had grown tired of listening to them bicker daily, so I spent most of my time in John's room. He had brought my laptop to me, so I spent the days in solitary confinement, browsing the internet. I gained my strength back quickly, and most of my stitches were removed after another week of healing. The gash below my navel was stubbornly remaining open. And then, an interesting case appeared. Mrs. Hudson shouted from the living room, calling for the boys. I leapt up from bed and flounced into the room. A man was passed out in the middle of the floor and I walked passed him to flop into Sherlock's chair. They appeared moments after me, and Sherlock stared detestably at me. "I'm not moving. Healing, remember?" I said with a slow grin.

"Of course," he muttered with a sneer. John went over and sat on the couch while the man who had woken up while we were talking sat in the middle of the room on a chair. "Tell us from the start. Don't be boring," Sherlock ordered while pacing around the room. I watched him while the man, Phil, recited his story. I zoned out after a moment and watched the light shine off of Sherlock's dark curls.

Several hours later, John and I were in a car heading out to the crime scene. John had his laptop and I was curled up in the seat next to the window with my phone in front of my face. I was texting Sherlock.

**Please don't be naked. **

**I make no promises. SH **

**A sheet at least? **

**Fine. SH **

**You're embarrassing. **

We pulled up to a crime scene out in the country, and John and I climbed out. A man approached us and said "Sherlock Holmes."

"John Watson," John said and shook his extended hand. He turned his gaze to me and quirked an eyebrow. I sucked in a deep breath and extended a hand to him. "Jamie McConnell. Are you set up for Wi-fi?" I said as he shook my hand. I pulled my hand back quickly and fought down the panic. I was still struggling with strangers. My phone chimed and I pulled it out. It was Sherlock

**I have a sheet. Hurry up. SH **

The man nodded and John balanced the laptop on the boot of the car. He connected with Sherlock, and I grinned. He wandered into the kitchen wrapped up in the sheet from his bed. "You realise this is a tiny bit humiliating?" John asked slowly. He grabbed a cup of tea and took a drink before walking towards his laptop. "It's okay. I'm fine," Sherlock said. I rolled my eyes at him and he flashed a rare smile. He picked up the laptop and carried it into the living room. "Now show me the stream," Sherlock asked from the laptop. We walked out into the grass, and it slung dew up onto my jeans. "I didn't mean for you," John said as he knelt down to show Sherlock what he asked.

"Look, this is a six," he said as he adjusted the screen. "Jamie, you there?"

"What do you want?" I sighed as I walked around to face him. John rolled his eyes at me. "We agreed that there's no point for me to leave the flat for anything less than a seven, right?" Sherlock asked.

"No, when did we agree to that?" I asked slowly.

"We agreed it yesterday, now go back," Sherlock ordered. "Stop!" John stopped moving. The camera was pointed at the mud on the ground. "Closer," Sherlock said. I sighed and grabbed the laptop from John and turned the camera to me. "John was in Dublin. I was at work," I pointed out.

"Well, it's hardly my fault you weren't listening," Sherlock said. I heard the doorbell ringing in the background. Sherlock whipped around and shouted "Shut up!" He turned back and looked at me expectantly. "Do you just carry on talking while we're away?" I asked slowly, mirth in my eyes.

"I don't know. How often are you away? Show me the car that backfired," Sherlock said slowly. I turned the laptop so he could see the car. "There," I sighed.

"That's the one that made the noise, yes?" Sherlock asked. I swung the computer back around and John came over to peer over my shoulder. "Yeah, but if you're thinking it was a gunshot, there wasn't one. He was killed by a single blow to the back of the head from a blunt instrument that magically disappeared along with the killer. That's gotta be an eight at least," John said. I snorted and rolled my eyes. John and I turned back to walk towards the road while Sherlock thought. The man we met when we arrived followed us, and I immediately felt uncomfortable. "You've got two more minutes, then I want to know more about the driver," he ordered.

"Oh , forget him. He's an idiot. Why else would he think himself a suspect?" Sherlock said with a dismissive wave of his hand. The man caught up to us and leaned to look into the camera. I held my breath, and waited for him to go away. "I think he's a suspect!" he shouted.

"Pass me over," Sherlock grunted. I eagerly handed the laptop to the man, and backed away from him. Sherlock watched me go, and John came over and wrapped his arms around me carefully. "Sherlock, there's a mute button. I will use it," John called, and I could feel it reverberate around in his chest.

"Having driven to an isolated location and successfully committed a crime without a single witness, why would he then call the police and consult a detective? Fair play?" Sherlock sneered.

"He's trying to be clever. It's over confidence," he shot back.

"Did you see him? Morbidly obese, the undisguised halitosis of a single man living on his own, the right sleeve of an internet porn addict, and the breathing pattern of an untreated heart condition. Low self-esteem, tiny IQ, and a limited life expectancy- and you think he's an audacious criminal mastermind?" Sherlock's voice was heard from the computer. "Don't worry- this is just stupid." A muffled reply was heard before Sherlock ordered the man who took the laptop to go to the stream.

"What's in the stream?" the man asked.

"Go and see," Sherlock said flippantly. A muffled female voice, followed by several male voices were heard in the background. I rushed over the the laptop, panic settling itself into my stomach. I peered at the screen and saw Mrs. Hudson with a few men in black suits. "Who the hell are you?" Sherlock said with his back to the computer. I shouted as the man reached forward to close the laptop. I fought to control my breathing as I mashed a few buttons on the computer. A young man with his ear pressed to a phone ran up to us. "Mr. Watson, Ms. McConnell, it's for you," he announced loudly.

"Okay thanks," I muttered with my hand outstretched while I tried to fix the computer.

"No, ma'am. The helicopter," he replied. John and I glanced up as a helicopter touched down by the river.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sometime later, John and I wandered into Buckingham Palace. We followed the escort, and I walked slowly to admire the rooms. They were ornate and elegant. I sighed contentedly and the escort urged us on. We approached a sitting room and my eyes immediately found Sherlock. He was still wrapped in his sheet, and a pile of clothes sat on the table in front of him. I gestured to the room, and Sherlock shrugged in response. John and I walked over to the couch Sherlock was on, and I sat down between my boys. John and I glanced around and I leaned back uncomfortably. "Are you wearing any pants?" John asked after a moment.

"No," Sherlock replied shortly.

"Okay," John said slowly. I looked between them for a moment. John sighed quietly before turning and we all shared a look. We all bursted out in laughter, and my chest ached. I couldn't stop while John questioned why we were here. "Here to see the queen?" John asked as he controlled his laughter. I had finally caught my breath and wiped at my tears as Mycroft Holmes strutted into the room. "Apparently, yes," Sherlock replied which sent us both laughing again. I curled up in a ball and buried my face in my knees as my shoulders shook in silent laughter. "Just once, can you three behave like grown ups?" Mycroft sighed arrogantly. I promptly stopped laughing and shot him a glare over my knees. "We solve crimes. I blog about it. Sherlock forgets his pants. And she keeps us sane, so I wouldn't hold out too much hope," John said. Mycroft walked into the room and the humor immediately left. "I was in the middle of a case, Mycroft," Sherlock said with a glare at his brother.

"What, the hiker and the backfire? I glanced at the police report. Bit obvious surely?" Mycroft sneered.

"Transparent," Sherlock muttered. John and I turned to stare at him. My expression slowly morphed into a scowl. "Time to move on, then," Mycroft announced. He bent down to grab the pile of clothes before extending them to Sherlock. Sherlock glanced at them with disinterest before turning to look around the room. Mycroft sighed loudly. "We are in Buckingham Palace, the very heart of the British nation. Sherlock Holmes, put your trousers on," Mycroft said sternly.

"What for?" Sherlock asked with a shrug.

"Your client," Mycroft replied. I watched their exchange carefully. Mycroft was irritating, and Sherlock was behaving like a child. Sherlock stood and turned to face his brother. "And my client is?" he asked.

"Illustrious…" another man answered as he walked into the room. I watched him enter with narrowed eyes. I was uncomfortable again, too many strangers in one day. Sherlock turned to look at him as he finished his statement, "In the extreme." John and I stood as well, and I discreetly laced my fingers with John's. He squeezed my hand for a moment before turning to look at the newcomer. "And remaining- I have to inform you- entirely anonymous," he said as he stepped closer. "Mycroft!"

"Harry," he said while they shook hands. "May I apologize for the state of my little brother?"

"Full-time occupation I imagine," Harry replied before turning to John. A deep scowl had settled on my face. I let go of John's hand and stepped back, only to be stopped by Sherlock's hands on my upper arms. I shook him off and crossed my arms. "And this must be Doctor John Watson, formerly of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers," Harry said.

"Hello, yes," John replied and they shook hands. Harry turned to me and smiled softly. "Who is this?" he asked while glancing at Mycroft.

"Jamie Mcconnell," I grunted before Mycroft could answer. I stepped forward and shook his hand before stepping back next to Sherlock. Harry turned to look smugly at Sherlock. "And, Mr. Holmes the younger," Harry said finally. "You look taller in your photographs."

"I take the precaution of a good coat and short friends," Sherlock replied before glancing at John and I. I glared at him as he walked past us both, forcing us to step out of the way. "Mycroft, I do not do anonymous clients. I'm used to mystery at one end of my cases. Both ends is too much work," he said when he paused in front of his older brother. "Good evening," he said to Harry before turning to walk away. The sheet had a trailing end and Mycroft promptly stomped on it. The sheet slipped off of Sherlock but he caught it before he was completely naked. I giggled at him, and could see his shoulders stiff with rage. "This is a matter of national importance. Grow up," Mycroft said.

"Get off my sheet," Sherlock said through gritted teeth.

"Or what?" Mycroft taunted.

"Or I'll just walk away,"

"I'll let you," Mycroft sneered.

"Boys, please. Not here," John cut in.

"Who. Is. My. Client?" Sherlock said through his teeth. His back was stiff and his shoulders were shaking. I immediately walked around to stand before him. I smiled softly and pressed my hands to his face. He was still shaking and his teeth were clenched. "Don't make me kiss you," I teased softly, so the others wouldn't here.

"Take a look at where you're standing and make a deduction. You are to be engaged by the highest in the land. Now for God's sake…" Mycroft paused to take a deep breath for his rage had been growing. "Put your clothes on!" Sherlock closed his eyes and took a sharp breath. I looked around him to glare at Mycroft before glancing down at the end of the sheet. Mycroft released it, and I went to grab the stack of clothes. I walked back to Sherlock and grabbed his left wrist. I tugged him along behind me, attempting to contain my own rage. Sherlock shuffled behind me, not even fighting me. I listened to John explain what I was doing to Harry and Mycroft as I pulled Sherlock from the room.

We entered a side room and I locked the door. "Sherlock Holmes," I said when I had turned around to stare at him. He met my gaze coldly. "You are behaving like a child. Mycroft is obviously offering you an interesting case, and you are blatantly ignoring him. Have you forgotten the past week? You drove the entirety of Baker Street bonkers with your incessant boredom," I said with my arms crossed. I was still gripping his clothes, and his eyes moved to them before returning to mine. "No, you can't have those yet. Not until you calm down. Stand there in your silly sheet," I said with a glare. He scowled at me and stepped forward. "Oi, no. You won't forcibly remove them either," I said and backed away. "I will run and that'll rip my stitches. Don't."

"Give me the clothes," Sherlock said coldly.

"Make me a promise,"

"What?" he sighed and closed his eyes.

"Behave. Listen to Mycroft and that Harry fellow. Get on the case. Solve it, and then we can all go home," I said.

"Fine," he muttered.

"Say it,"

"I promise to behave. Now, can I have the clothes?" Sherlock sighed with a roll of his eyes. I grinned and held them out to him. He stared at me expectantly and I rolled my eyes. "Again, unless you're hiding a baby alligator, I've seen everything you have," I said with my back turned. I listened to the rustle of fabric for a few moments before turning back around. I reached out my hand to him, and he laced his fingers in mine. I grinned at him before unlocking the door and pulling him back the way we came.

We sat back down next to John, who looked at me expectantly, and tea was served. "I'll be mother," Mycroft said as he poured the tea.

"And there is a whole childhood in a nutshell," Sherlock muttered. I smiled slightly at that and accepted the tea from Mycroft. Harry looked at Sherlock after accepting his tea as well. "My employer has a problem," he said.

"A matter has come to light of an extremely delicate and potentially criminal nature, and in this hour of need, your name has arisen," Mycroft said. I sipped the tea and fought back a grimace. It was too strong. I set it back in the saucer and placed it on the table carefully. "Why? You have a policy of sorts, even a marginally Secret Service. Why come to me?" Sherlock asked.

"People do come to you for help, don't they Mr. Holmes?" Harry asked.

"Not, to date, anyone with a Navy," Sherlock replied.

"This is a matter of highest security, and therefore trust," Mycroft said.

"You don't trust your own Secret Service?" I asked.

"Naturally not. They all spy on people for money," Mycroft said. John and I fought back smiles, and John sipped his tea. "I do think we have a timetable," Harry said.

"Yes, of course," Mycroft said. He opened his case and pulled out a photograph. he handed it to Sherlock and I looked over his shoulder at it. It was a picture of a woman. "What do you know about this woman?" Mycroft asked.

"Nothing whatsoever," Sherlock said.

"Then you should be paying more attention. She's been at the center of two political scandals in the last year, and recently ended the marriage of a prominent novelist by having an affair with both participants separately," Mycroft said.

"You know I don't concern myself with trivia. Who is she?" Sherlock said.

"Irene Adler. Professionally known as The Woman," Mycroft said.

"Professionally?" John asked.

"There are many names for what she does. She prefers 'dominatrix'," Mycroft answered.

"Dominatrix," Sherlock said receding into his mind.

"Don't be alarmed. It's to do with sex," Mycroft said.

"Sex doesn't alarm me," Sherlock insisted.

"How would you know?" Mycroft said with a snide smile. I shot him a scowl and touched Sherlock's shoulder as a gentle reminder. "She provides, shall we say, recreational scolding for those who enjoy that sort of thing and are prepared to pay for it," Mycroft said while ignoring my dirty look. He pulled out more photos from his case and passed them to Sherlock. "These are all from her website," he said. Sherlock leafed through the photographs, and I looked over his shoulder once more. I soffed at her ridiculous attire and looked away. "And I assume this Adler woman has some compromising photographs." Sherlock said.

"You're very quick, Mr. Holmes," Harry said.

"Hardly a difficult deduction. Photographs of whom?" Sherlock said.

"A person of significance to my employer. We'd prefer not to say anymore at this time," Harry said. Sherlock set the pictures down on the table and turned to glare at him. I poked his side, and he shot me a glare. "You can't tell us anything?" John asked.

"I can tell you it's a young person," Mycroft said. John took a sip from his teacup. "A young female person," Mycroft said. Sherlock smirked while John's eyes grew wide. "How many photographs?" Sherlock asked.

"A considerable number, apparently," Mycroft replied.

"Do Miss Adler and this young female person appear in these photographs together?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes they do," Mycroft replied.

"And I assume in a number of compromising scenarios,"

"An imaginative range, we are assured," Mycroft said.

"Can you help us Mr. Holmes?" Harry asked.

"How?"

"Will you take the case?"

"What case? Pay her now and in full. As Miss Adler remarks in her masthead, 'Know when your are beaten,'" Sherlock replied. He reached for his coat and I shuffled my feet. "She doesn't want anything," Harry said. Sherlock turned back to stare at him. "She got in touch, she informed us that the photographs existed, she indicated that she had no intention to use them to extort either money or favor," Mycroft said.

"Oh, a power play. A power play with the most powerful family in Britain. Now that is a dominatrix. Ooh, this is getting rather fun isn't it?" Sherlock said, finally interested.

"Sherlock…" I warned. Sherlock turned to reach for his coat. "Where is she?" Sherlock asked.

"Uh, in London currently. She's staying.." Mycroft started to answer, but was cut off when Sherlock stood and started to walk away. I stood and latched onto his hand before he could get too far. "Text me the details. I'll be in touch by the end of the day," Sherlock called. John, Harry, and Mycroft all stood. "Do you really think you'll have news by then?" Harry asked.

"No, I think I'll have the photographs," Sherlock said while glancing over his shoulder at the three men.

"One can only hope you're as good as you seem to think," Harry said. Sherlock pulled us both to a stop and turned to stare at the man. I could see his mind running through his deductions. "I'll need some equipment of course," Sherlock said.

"Anything you require. I'll have it sent to.." Mycroft began.

"Can I have a box of matches?" Sherlock interrupted.

"I'm sorry?" Harry asked.

"Or your cigarette lighter. Either will do," Sherlock said while holding out his free hand expectantly.

"I don't smoke," Harry said slowly.

"No, I know you don't, but your employer does," Sherlock said. Harry paused a moment before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a lighter, which he handed to Sherlock. "We have kept a lot of people successfully in the dark about this little fact, Mr. Holmes," Harry said.

"I'm not the Commonwealth," Sherlock replied while stuffing the lighter into his trouser pocket. He turned back to the exit and pulled me along behind him. "And that's as modest as he gets. Pleasure to meet you," John said as he hurried after us.

"Laters!" Sherlock called without pronouncing the 't'. John threw them an apologetic glance before following us. We headed out of the building and straight for a taxi. I climbed in after Sherlock, and John followed. "Okay, the smoking. How did you know?" John asked.

"The evidence was right under your nose, John. As ever, you see but do not observe," Sherlock replied after smiling and shaking his head.

"Observe what?" John asked.

"The ashtray," Sherlock replied. He reached into his jacket and pulled out an ornate glass ashtray. John and I grinned in delight as he tossed it, caught it, and stuffed it back into his coat.

We arrived at Baker Street, and I followed the boys inside. We headed upstairs and I immediately went to the kitchen. I grabbed a bag of crisps and headed to Sherlock's chair. I flopped down on it with my feet hanging over the side, and watched Sherlock hurtled clothing around in his room. John sat at his computer and began reading something. I stuffed my mouth full of crisps and chewed loudly. John glanced at me before turning back to the screen. "What? We were there forever. I'm starving," I muttered before stuffing another handful into my mouth.

"How can you eat like that?" John asked, doing his best to ignore Sherlock.

"Like this," I replied and stuffed more crisps into my already full mouth. John turned back to his computer and I looked back at Sherlock again. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"Going into battle, Jamie. I need the right armor," Sherlock replied. He walked into the room wearing a large, bright yellow, high-vis jacket. "No," Sherlock sighed before pulling it off again. He walked back into his room and began his hunt once more.

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Several hours later, Sherlock, John, and I were piled in a taxi. "So, what's the plan?" I asked.

"We know her address," Sherlock replied.

"What, we just ring her doorbell?" John asked.

"Exactly," Sherlock replied. "Just here, please." He said to the cab driver. We pulled to a stop and climbed out. "You didn't even change your clothes," John said.

"Then, it's time to add a splash of color," Sherlock said as he lead the way down a nearby street. He walked ahead of John and I, and I watched him pull off his scarf. He stopped and turned to face us. "Are we here?" I asked slowly.

"Two streets away, but this'll do," Sherlock said.

"For what?" I asked slowly while stepping closer to him.

"Punch me in the face," Sherlock said, his eyes locked on mine.

"P-punch you?" I spluttered.

"Yes. Punch me, in the face," Sherlock said while gesturing to his left cheek. "Didn't you hear me?"

"I always hear punch me in the face when you're speaking, but it's usually subtext," I muttered.

"Oh, for God's sake," He said exasperated. He swung at John, and cracked him in the cheek. I immediately launched into action. I tackled him to the ground while he was shaking out his fist. I sat on his hips and slammed my fist into his face. I grabbed his arms and pinned them above his head. "Don't," I snarled when he struggled. John clutched his cheek and pulled on my shoulder. "No, John," I said and shook him off. "Sherlock, don't. Just don't." I studied the split skin on his face and frowned. I released his arms slowly and brushed my fingers over where I had hit him. "Why did you make me do that?" I whined. My knuckles were bloody, but I hardly felt the pain. Sherlock carefully grabbed my hips and stared up at me, fear in his eyes. I sighed and rested my forehead in my hands. "I've never hit anyone. I most definitely didn't want it to be you," I muttered.

"I told you to," Sherlock said slowly.

"So?" I cried. I pulled my hands away and looked around at John. "Can you go get me some tea or something?" I asked slowly. He nodded and walked off. I turned back to Sherlock and slowly climbed off of him. He sat up and I sat next to him. Sherlock grabbed my hand and examined my knuckles. "You hit well," he muttered.

"Is that good?" I asked slowly, completely perplexed.

"Yes," He replied. He brushed the dirt from my wound and looked back up at me. My eyes locked onto this cheek, and I frowned deeply. I picked at the hem of my skirt with my free hand and sighed. John reemerged carrying a paper cup. He handed it to me with a smiled and sat beside me. I sipped the liquid, and sighed. I looked over at John and searched for his wound. He had a red mark on his face, but nothing major. "Oi! How hard did you hit him?" John exclaimed as he looked at Sherlock's face.

"Very hard," Sherlock muttered. I handed him the other half of the tea and stood. "Let's get this over with, boys," I sighed. They both stood and I lead the way. Sherlock finished the tea and tossed it in a waste bin. We approached a building and I watched Sherlock preform. We were soon inside, and the woman who answered the door lead John to the kitchen to find a medical kit.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: ****I'll post this every ten chapters. **I claim no ownership or royalties over Sherlock BBC. I just use their words and scenery to entertain others. 

**I'd also like to source Ariane Devere aka Callie Sullivan because I used her transcripts of the episodes to accurately produce these chapters. You can find the links on my profile ;) **

Chapter 10

Sherlock and I were soon sitting together in an elegant sitting room, and Sherlock still had the handkerchief pressed to his face. "Hello, Sorry to hear the you've been hurt. I don't think Kate caught your name," a woman's voice said from somewhere behind us.

"I'm so sorry. I'm.." Sherlock started to stay, but stopped when the woman walked into our view. She was completely naked, except for a pair of high-heeled shoes. "Oh, it's always hard to remember an alias when you've had a fright isn't it?" she asked. She walked closer and I resisted the urge to glare. She stood directly in front of Sherlock and removed the white plastic collar from his shirt, leaning over him and straddling his legs. "There now, we're both defrocked, Mr. Sherlock Holmes," She said while smiling down at him.

"Miss Adler, I presume," Sherlock replied.

"Look at those cheekbones. I could cut myself slapping that face. Would you like me to try?" She said as she studied his face. My blood was boiling as I watched her manipulate him. John walked in carrying a bowl of water but stops dead in his tracks when he sees the state of her undress. She leans back and offers him a seat. She moved to sit in a nearby armchair, and positions her arms and legs to obscure the view of her breasts. "If you'd like some tea, I'll call the maid," She offered.

"Oh, I had some at the Palace," Sherlock replied.

"I know,"

"Clearly," Sherlock replied. He tries to deduce her for a moment, but I could see his frustration. He turned to stare at me, and I rolled my eyes. He turned back to Irene, and I could see his confusion. "Do you know the big problem with a disguise, Mr. Holmes?" she asked. Sherlock lifted an eyebrow at her. "However hard you try, it's always a self-portrait," She said.

"You think I'm a vicar with a bleeding face?" Sherlock scoffed.

"No, I think you're damaged, delusional, and believe in a higher power. In your case, it's yourself," Irene responded. I watched Sherlock unbutton the top two buttons on his shirt, and my gaze was drawn back to Irene when she leaned forward. "Oh, and somebody loves you. Why, if I had to punch that face, I'd avoid your nose and teeth, too," she remarked. Her gaze swiveled over to John. I sighed softly and drummed my fingers on my thighs. I was the only one brave enough to actually look at her. John was fidgeting uncomfortably beside me, and it was growing irritating. "Miss Adler?" I asked slowly.

"Yes?"

"Could you, maybe, put something on?" I asked with a slight grin.

"Why? Are you feeling exposed?" she said with a smirk.

"I don't think the boys know where to look," I replied.

"They know exactly where," she replied arrogantly. I sighed grabbed Sherlock's coat and threw it at her. She huffed and pulled it on as Sherlock stood to inspect the fireplace. "How was it done?" Irene asked the room.

"What?" I asked.

"The hiker with the bashed-in head, how was it done?" she asked as she pulled off her heels.

"That's not why I'm here," Sherlock replied with a perplexed look on his pale face.

"No, no, no, you're here for the photographs but that's never going to happen, and since we're here just chatting away…" she said, trailing off with a grin.

"That story hasn't been on the news yet," John replied.

"I know one of the policemen. Well, I know what he likes," she said. "How was he murdered?"

"He wasn't," Sherlock replied.

"You don't think it was murder?" Irene asked slowly.

"I know it wasn't," Sherlock replied with a smirk.

"How?"

"The same way I know that the victim was an excellent sportsman recently returned from foreign travel and that the photographs I'm looking for are in this room," Sherlock replied.

"Okay, but how?"

"Oh, so they are in this room. Thank you. John, man the door. Let no one in," Sherlock said in a fast manner. He and John eyed each other, and John stood to leave. I watched his back, and my gaze swiveled back to Sherlock. He was waiting for me, and I immediately understood what he was doing. I smirked slightly and nodded in response. Irene looked between us calculatingly. "Two men in the countryside, several yards apart, and one car," Sherlock said as he paced.

"Oh, I thought you were looking for the photos now," Irene said

"No, no, looking takes ages. I'm just going to find them, and you're moderately clever. This is just to pass the time," Sherlock said. He stopped and turned to face her. "Two men, a car, and nobody else," Sherlock prompted. "The drivers trying to fix the engine, getting nowhere. The hiker's taking a moment, looking at the sky. Watching the birds? Any moment now, something's gonna happen. What?"

"The hiker's going to die," Irene answered.

"No, that's the result. What's going to happen?" he asked again.

"I don't understand," Irene said. The answer dawned on me, and I turned to stare intently at Sherlock. He grinned at me when he noticed my look of complete understanding. "Oh, well, try to," Sherlock said with is gaze back on Irene.

"Why?"

"Because you cater to the whims of the pathetic and take your clothes off to make an impression. Stop boring me and think," Sherlock snapped.

"The car's going to backfire," Irene said.

"There's going to be a loud noise,"

"So, what?"

"Oh, noises are important. Noises can tell you everything. For instance…" he trailed off expectantly. He waits expectantly, and the smoke alarm starts to beep loudly from down the hall. I watched Irene, and Sherlock and I follow her gaze to the ornate mirror over the fireplace. "thank you. On hearing a smoke alarm, a mother would look toward her child. Amazing how fire exposes our priorities," Sherlock said as he brushed his fingers under the mantlepiece. He found a switch, and the mirror slid up to reveal a small wall safe. He turned to watch Irene stand. I stood as well, and walked towards Sherlock. "Really hope you don't have a baby in there," I said as I walked over to inspect the safe.

"All right, John, you can turn it off!" Sherlock called. He waited for a few seconds, then repeated himself. Sherlock turned to inspect the safe as well, and I could see him thinking. "You really should use gloves with these, you know. Heaviest oil deposits are always on the first key used- that's quite clearly the three- but after that the sequence is almost impossible to read. I'd say from the make it's a six digit code. Can't be your birthday- no disrespect but clearly you were born in the eighties; the eight's barely used, so…" Sherlock said to her.

"I'd tell you the code right now, but you know what? I already have," Irene replied. Sherlock and I frowned at her, and I replayed the entire conversation in my head. Finding nothing, I returned my gaze to Sherlock. "Think," Irene ordered. The door was thrown open and a medium built man struts into the room with a gun aimed at Sherlock. "Down on the ground," he ordered Irene in an American accent. A man came up behind me and grabbed me in a chokehold. I gasped and began to struggle immediately. He used his other arm to grab my wrists and pinned them behind my back. Panic swelled in my chest as I was manhandled over to where John and Irene were being held. I watched Sherlock carefully, and he raised his hands slowly. "Don't you want me on the floor, too?" Sherlock asked the man with the gun.

"No, sir, I want you to open the safe," he replied.

"American. Interesting. Why would you care?" Sherlock commented.

"Sir, the safe, now, please," the man insisted. Sherlock locked eyes with me as the man holding me roughly gripped my hands behind my head. I could feel my stitches below my navel being stretched to the limit, and Sherlock catalogued the pained look on my face. "I don't know the code," Sherlock said as his gaze returned to the American.

"We've been listening. She said she told you," he insisted.

"Well, if you'd been listening, she said she didn't," Sherlock snapped. "Ease up, man, you're popping her stitches." Sherlock said to the man holding me. I sighed in relief when he loosened his grip on me, and glanced down at my shirt. "Shit," I whispered when I saw the blood.

"I'm assuming I missed something. From your reputation, I'm assuming you didn't, Mr. Holmes," the American said, ignoring me.

"For God's sake, she's the one who knows the code. Ask her," John said loudly.

"Yes, sir. She also know the code that automatically calls the police and sets off the burglar alarm. I've learned not to trust this woman," the man replied.

"Mr. Holmes doesn't," Irene began.

"Shut up. One more word out of you- just one- and I will decorate that wall with the inside of your head. That, for me, will not be a hardship," the man cut her off. I watched Sherlock glare at the man, and frowned slightly. "Mr. Archer, at the count of three, shoot them. John Watson and Jamie McConnell," the American ordered.

"What?" John gasped. I remained furiously silent as I felt the barrel of a handgun pressed to the back of my skull. "I don't have the code," Sherlock insisted desperately. I squeezed my eyes shut as the telltale sound of the man cocking the gun sounded behind me. I sucked in a deep breath and held it. "One," the man said.

"I don't know the code," Sherlock pleaded.

"Two,"

"She didn't tell me! I don't know it!" Sherlock shouted.

"I'm prepared to believe you any second now," the man said. "Three,"

"No, stop!" Sherlock shouted. I opened my eyes and blew out the breath I had been holding. Sherlock and I locked gazes, and I smiled slightly at him in encouragement. He turned to the safe and hesitantly punched in 6 numbers. The safe clicked open, and John sighed in relief. "Thank you, Mr. Holmes, open it please," the American said.

"Vatican Cameos!" Sherlock shouted. John and I instantly threw ourselves to the floor, as Sherlock yanked the safe open. He ducked down below the fireplace and the tripwire attached to the gun inside the safe pulled the trigger. The bullet embedded itself in Mr. Archer's chest. I launched myself at the man just as Sherlock went for the gun. I landed on the man just as Sherlock snatched the gun from his hand. I cried out in pain as the stitches in my abdomen burst. I fought through the pain and pinned the man with my knees on his shoulder. I held my hand up to Sherlock. He handed me the gun and I slammed the butt of it against my opponents head, rendering him unconscious. Sherlock helped me up as Irene apprehended her opponent. "D'you mind?" Sherlock asked her.

"Not at all," Irene replied. Sherlock turned to pull something out of the safe just as Irene slammed the butt of the pistol she held against her opponent's face. He was unconscious in seconds. John called out "He's dead."

"Thank you, you were very observant," Irene said.

"Observant?" Sherlock asked. I gripped my abdomen as the blood seeped onto my shirt. Sherlock slapped my hands out of the way as he crouched down to look at my wound. He lifted my shirt and peered at it carefully. "They're all torn," he sighed as he probed the wound with his fingers gently. Irene watched us carefully, and I blushed slightly. "I'm flattered," Irene replied, drawing his gaze.

"Don't be," Sherlock muttered. "John, hand me that cloth." John walked over to the table and picked up the wad of cloth, and handed it to Sherlock. "Flattered?" I hissed as he pressed the wad to my wound.

"There'll be more of them. They'll be keeping an eye on the building," Sherlock said as he stood with his right hand still holding the cloth to my wound. "John, something to bind it?" John glanced around for a moment before turning back to us. "Nothing?" Sherlock asked slowly.

"It's okay," I gasped. I pushed his hand out of the way and held the cloth with my own hand. He and John headed outside and I heard the pistol being fired five times. They came back and Sherlock immediately came over to me. "John, check the rest of the house. See how they got in," Sherlock ordered as he applied more pressure to my wound with his own hand. Sherlock reached into his pocket with his other hand and produced a phone. He waved it at Irene and said, "well, that's the knighthood in a bag."

"Ah, that's mine," Irene said.

"All the photographs are on here, I presume," Sherlock said as he switched it on to study.

"I have copies. of course," Irene said with her hand out expectantly. Sherlock let go of me and turned to face her, blocking my view. "No, you don't. You'll have permanently disabled any kind of uplink or connection. Unless the contents of this phone are proveably unique, you wouldn't be able to sell them," Sherlock pointed out.

"Who said I'm selling?" Irene asked while lowering her hand.

"Well, why would they be interested? Whatever's on the phone, it's clearly not just photographs," Sherlock said while looking at the Americans.

"That camera phone is my life, Mr. Holmes. I'd die before I let you take it," she said as walked closer to us. "It's my protection."

"Sherlock!" John's voice sounded from upstairs. Sherlock let go of me and immediately ran to him. Irene and I followed, and I took my time on the stairs. When I walked in to the upstairs bedroom, I could see the woman who answered the door sprawled out on the floor. "It's all right. She's just out cold," John said as Irene approached her.

"Well, God knows she's used to that. There's a back door, better check it Doctor Watson, Ms. McConnell," Irene said. Sherlock walked out of the bathroom and nodded to us. I grabbed John's hand and stumbled after him. We walked to the door and checked it, then immediately headed back to Sherlock. John checked my bleeding and tsked. "It's too fast, you'll pass out soon," he sighed. We walked into the room and I immediately collapsed on the floor next to Sherlock. His eyes were unfocused and he was struggling to remain conscious. I grabbed his hand, and laced our fingers together. I couldn't hear anything anymore, and my heart was pounding. I sighed as my head slumped forward and landed over Sherlock's heart. The last thing I saw was John rushing over to us.

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I gasped and immediately opened my eyes. Panic swelled in my chest. "Sherlock! John!" I cried out. I sat up and looked around. I was in Sherlock's room, and he was asleep beside me. I glanced down and saw a fresh bandage stuck to my navel. I was shirtless and my fogged mind didn't register my embarrassment. John opened the door and saw me sitting up. "Go back to sleep. I just put him back in bed, don't make me get you, too," John said as he walked over. He pushed my shoulder and I slowly lowered myself back onto the pillows. I scooted over to Sherlock and threw my arms around him. He turned his head to me, and continued to sleep. John giggled quietly and left the room. I fell asleep soon after.

I woke up the next morning and slowly blinked sleep from my eyes. Sherlock had his face pressed into the crook of my neck and his arm flung around my waist. My left hand cradled the back of his skull and my right was tangled with Sherlock's left. I watched him sleep for a few minutes. I looked up as the bedroom door opened again. John and Mycroft walked in, and I rolled my eyes. "Cozy?" John asked with a grin.

"Yes," I said quietly. Sherlock muttered something incoherently and snuggled his face closer into my neck. Mycroft watched with a quirk to his eyebrows. "Give me a moment?" I asked with a sigh. John grinned some more and lead the way out of the room. I pulled my hand from his hair and brushed my finger over his face. He wrinkled up his nose and slowly blinked open his eyes. "Good morning," I muttered. He grunted in response and tightened his arm on my waist. I laughed quietly as he slowly feel back asleep. "Shezza, Mycroft is here," I whispered. His blue grey eyes popped open with a glare. His gaze slowly drifted around the room. "Not here you dolt, the living room," I muttered with a smirk. He lifted his head and gazed at my face. "Why are you here?" he asked quietly.

"Well, John and Lestrade thought it would be funny to put me in here with you. Keep the weird druggies in the same room, ya know? That's my guess anyways," I muttered back. He blinked slowly before letting his head fall back onto my chest. "I was serious about Mycroft. He's waiting," I muttered.

"I don't care," he mumbled into my neck.

"Shezza, I'm starving. Come on," I whined. He mumbled in response and tightened his hold on me. I pushed on his arm for a moment before sighing and laying back. "Shezza," I whined again.

"No,"

"Please?" I begged quietly. He shook his head, his dark curls brushing against my skin. "You're cuddling with a shirtless, injured female," I pointed out.

"That doesn't bother me. I'm fine,"

"Sherlock, let's go," I said in a louder voice. He sighed loudly and rolled away. I rolled my eyes and slowly swung my legs off the side of the bed. I pushed myself up and padded over to his dresser. I pulled out a green button up and pulled it on. I glanced around for a moment. "Shezza, pants?" I asked. I hadn't noticed last night that I was just in my panties as well.

"Third drawer on the left," he mumbled. I opened it and pulled out a pair. They engulfed me. "Get up," I said as I shuffled over to him. I crawled back onto the bed and leaned over him. He opened his eyes to peek at me. "Mycroft," I prompted. He groaned and rolled to face me. I smirked at him and sat down indian style next to him. I watched him rub his eyes for a moment. "Why is he here?" he said slowly.

"I presume it's to talk about Irene Adler," I replied. He sighed loudly and rolled over onto his stomach. I poked his back and sighed. "You are such a child," I said. He grunted in response. I sighed again and climbed off the bed. I shuffled over to the door and stepped out into the hall. John looked up when I walked in and grinned. "Feeling better?" he asked.

"Starving," I muttered as I walked into their kitchen. I made toast and a cup of tea, and then shuffled over to the kitchen table. I yawned as I curled up on one of the chairs and watched John sip his coffee. "How did you sleep?" Mycroft asked from somewhere behind me.

"Just fine," I muttered before taking a huge bite. I chewed slowly and glared at John. "What?" John asked with a perplexed smile.

"I know what you're playing at. It's not going to work," I muttered. "It's not cute, John."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Jamie," John replied innocently.

"What are we talking about?" Sherlock said as he strutted into the room. He walked over to the table and sat down beside me. I glanced at him before returning to my toast, sulking. "Oh, nothing," John replied. Sherlock picked up the newspaper and began to read. "The photographs are perfectly safe," Sherlock said without looking up.

"In the hands of a fugitive sex worker," Mycroft replied.

"She's not interested in blackmail. She wants… protection for some reason. I take it you've stood down the police investigation into the shooting at her house?" Sherlock said.

"How can we do anything while she has the photographs. Our hands are tied," Mycroft said. I snorted at the innuendo and stuffed more toast into my mouth. "She'd applaud your choice of words. You see how this works: that camera phone is her 'Get Out of Jail Free' card. You have to leave her alone. Treat her like royalty, Mycroft," Sherlock said.

"Though not the way she treats royalty," John said. He shot a sarcastic smile at Mycroft, who responded humorlessly. A loud moan filled the room, and I glanced at Sherlock. Mycroft and John frowned. "What was that?" John asked slowly.

"Text," Sherlock replied, attempting nonchalance.

"But what was that noise?" John asked. Sherlock stood and approached his phone. He opened it and read the text. "Did you know there were other people after her too, Mycroft, before you sent the three of us in there? CIA trained killers, at an excellent guess." Sherlock asked. He walked back to the table and sat down once more. I finished my toast and folded my arms across my knees. "Jamie, you'll pop your stitches again if you keep sitting like that," John pointed out. I glared at him and slowly slid my feet down to the floor. Mrs. Hudson walked in carrying a plate of food, which she set down in front of Sherlock. "It's a disgrace, sending your little brother in there like that. Family is all we have in the end, Mycroft Holmes," Mrs Hudson said.

"Oh, shut up, Mrs. Hudson," Mycroft said arrogantly.

"Mycroft!" Sherlock shouted.

"Oi!" John shouted at the same time. I lunged from my seat, ready to hit him. Sherlock threw his hand out and looped his arm around my hips, effectively catching me. "Apologies," Mycroft said with a cringe.

"Thank you," Mrs. Hudson replied. My anger boiled underneath the surface, and Sherlock struggled to haul me back into my seat. He wound up pulling me into his lap, and I shot him a glare. "Though do, in fact, shut up," Sherlock said around me. Mrs. Hudson headed into the kitchen as the same moan fills the room. She turned back to look at us. "That noise, it's a bit rude, isn't it?" she asked. Sherlock reached for his phone and pulled it behind my back. He read the text and closed it before I had time to turn to look at it. "There's nothing you can do, and nothing she will do as far as I can see," Sherlock said.

"I can put maximum surveillance on her," Mycroft said.

"Why bother? You can follow her on Twitter. I believe her username is 'The Whip Hand'," Sherlock said.

"Yes. Most amusing," Mycroft muttered. Mycroft's phone rang and he excused himself to answer it. "Why does your phone make that noise?" I said, turning myself to look at Sherlock.

"What noise?" he asked, feining innocence.

"Your texts don't usually make that noise," I said.

"Well, somebody got a hold of the phone, and apparently, as a joke, personalized their text alert," Sherlock replied.

"So every time they text you.." John trailed off as Sherlock's phone moaned once more.

"It would seem so," Sherlock replied.

"Could you turn that phone down a bit? At my time of life," Mrs. Hudson asked. Sherlock once again read the message behind my back, and I sighed. I stood and headed over to the couch. I curled up on my side, facing the room, so I could still hear them and see what was happening. Sherlock had picked the newspaper back up, and he was pretending to read it. "I'm wondering who could have got hold of your phone, because it would have been in your coat, wouldn't it?"John asked.

"I'll leave you to your deductions," Sherlock muttered after raising the newspaper to hide his face.

"I'm not stupid, you know," John said with a smile.

"Where do you get that idea?" Sherlock asked with mock surprise. Mycroft walked back into the room, and finished his conversation. "What else does she have?" Sherlock asked. Mycroft gave Sherlock a confused look. "Irene Adler. The Americans wouldn't be interested in her for a couple of compromising photographs. There's more," Sherlock elaborated before standing to face Mycroft. "Much more." Mycroft watched his brother, his face blank. Sherlock stepped closer. "Something big's coming, isn't it?" Sherlock asked.

"Irene Adler is no longer a concern of yours. You will stay out of this," Mycroft replied.

"Oh, will I?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, Sherlock, you will," Mycroft said. Sherlock shrugged and turned away. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a long and arduous apology to make to a very old friend," Mycroft said. Sherlock walked over and picked up his violin. "Do give her my love," Sherlock said. He began to play "God Save the Queen" and Mycroft rolled his eyes. Sherlock chased him out of the room, while John and I grinned. Sherlock then walked back to the window, still playing.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Two weeks had passed since the Irene Adler incident. My wounds had all finally closed, and Molly and I were going out tonight. I sighed happily as I pulled on my leggings. I pulled on John's green jumper and rolled up the sleeves. It hung off my shoulder a bit and I swept my copper hair to the other side to reveal the skin. I applied minimal make up, and finished it off with my bright blue trainers. I straightened the black bow in my hair and stepped out of the bathroom in 221B. John was at the kitchen table and Sherlock was playing violin by the window. "Hello, boys," I said with a grin.

"You look great, Jamie," John said with a grin. I grinned back and pulled the jumper down a bit. "Hope you don't mind me borrowing this," I said sheepishly.

"Not at all," John replied. Sherlock turned around and his gaze swept over me. I was used to his high perception looks and walked right past him to sit on his chair. "No comments, Shezza?" I asked.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because that's what friends do. complement each other," I replied. My phone chimed and I opened the text. Molly was here. "Well, see you boys later," I said as I stood. I walked over to John and kissed his cheek before turning to leave. Sherlock set his violin down and stared after me. I grinned with my back turned before turning to face him with a neutral face. "Am I forgetting something?" I muttered with my right index finger tapping on my bottom lip. I pretended to think for a moment while Sherlock slowly approached like a beaten dog. "Oh, yes," I exclaimed after a moment. I walked over to him and threw my arms around him. He caught my waist easily. I kissed his cheek and hugged him tightly. "I couldn't forget you, you dolt," I said with a grin. He hugged me back slowly, and I pulled out of his arms. I waved to the both of them and flounced down the stairs.

Molly and I climbed into a cab and directed it towards our chosen bar. I pulled my feet up on the seat and stared at my phone. I sent a text to Sherlock,

**Don't drive Baker Street crazy **

**I'm bored. SH**

**Get over it**

**John is gone. SH **

**To be expected, you're insufferable **

**Come home. SH **

**No**

**Why? SH **

**I'm out with Molly. **

**So? SH **

**Play violin. Clean the flat. Organize your shirts. I don't know, just do something. **

**Boring. SH **

I shut off my phone as the taxi pulled up in front of the building. I climbed out, and Molly paid the fair. I fiddled with my bow before leading the way inside. The room was dark and the music was loud. A haze had filled the room, and I could hardly make out the mass of people dancing in the center. Several tables were set up around the room, and a bar was set up along one side. The bartender was a middle aged man with sandy blonde hair and brown eyes. He had an easygoing grin that he flashed to every patron. I grabbed Molly's hand and lead her in that direction. "Hello, ladies," the man behind the counter said as I climbed onto an empty stool. Molly stood uncomfortably beside me, and I flashed a grin to the man. "What would you like?" he asked and leaned on the counter in front of me. I thought for a moment and laughed quietly at my choice. "Sex on the beach," I replied with a cheesy grin.

"Sure thing," he said before turning to make my drink.

"Want anything, Molly?" I asked. She looked nervous and I could see her glancing around the room. "Relax, you're safe. I was stabbed thirteen times and I'm not freaking out," I said to her. She turned her wide eyes on me and frowned. "I'm just not used to these things," she muttered.

"Understood," I said with a smile. I turned back around as the bartender set my drink down. I grabbed it and slid down off the stool. "Let's get a table," I said. She nodded and followed me over to the tables in the corner. My phone chimed and I rolled my eyes. We stopped at an empty table and I sat to read the text.

**I organized your clothes. SH **

**Your organized is a disaster. Put it back. **

**No. Come home. SH **

**I'm getting drunk. You can't stop that. **

I closed my phone and sipped my drink. "Who were you texting?" Molly asked.

"Sherlock. He's bored," I sighed.

"Maybe we should go," Molly suggested. I smirked at the eagerness in her voice and shook my head. "You can go anytime, Molly. I'm getting drunk whether you like it or not," I said with a wave of my hand. I drank from my glass and leaned back in the chair. "I'll stay for a bit," Molly sighed. I grinned widely at that. She gave me a tentative smile before turning to look around once more. "You'll feel better if you drink," I said.

"I don't like to drink," Molly replied quietly.

"Then, why'd you accept?"

"You're really nice, and I like spending time with you," Molly replied. I smiled brightly and sipped from my drink. My phone chimed again and I rolled my eyes before opening the text

**Get drunk here, much safer. SH **

**You don't want to see that. **

**I don't? SH **

**I'm not a pretty drunk. **

I smirked and closed my phone again. Molly watched me finish my drink, and I stood to get another. The night continued on, and I was well into my third when I finally felt ready to go home. Molly quietly lead the way out of the bar and hailed a cab. I was wobbly on my feet, and grinned. "This is good. I'm good. I feel fantastic. You need to feel this, Molly. It's great," I said with a slight slur.

"Just get in the cab, Jamie," Molly sighed.

"O-okay, where are we going?" I asked as I stumbled into the cab.

"Baker Street," Molly called. The taxi pulled out into the London traffic, and I leaned on the window. "Molly," I said in a singsong voice.

"What?" she sighed.

"Do you like anybody?"

"Well, yeah,"

"Ooh, who?" I said eagerly and turned to her. She mumbled something and I squinted at her. "What?" I said loudly.

"Nothing," Molly sighed. I squinted at her some more, and then turned back to the window. I hardly registered the amount of time it took to reach Baker Street, and Molly was soon pulling my out of the taxi. I rubbed my eyes slowly and walked to the building. Molly paid the driver and hurried after me. I struggled with the key for a few moments, my fogged brain straining to focus. Molly sighed and swiped the keys from my fingers. She unlocked the door, and I stumbled inside. "Sherlock!" I called and sat on the bottom of the stairs. I leaned my head on the wall and giggled. Molly watched me warily before turning to look up at the Consulting Detective. "Hello, Sherlock," she said quietly. He ignored her and sat beside me. I turned my face to meet his gaze and grinned sloppily. "Oi, when did you get here?" I asked slowly.

"I live here," he replied warily. He glanced at Molly for a moment before turning his gaze back to me. "Where's John?" I asked slowly and peered around.

"He's with another one of his girlfriends, the one with the nose," Sherlock replied. I nodded slowly and sighed. "I feel fantastic. Everyone should drink more. It's great," I mumbled. Molly giggled quietly and Sherlock turned to stare at her. "Well, I best get home. Goodnight Jamie, Sherlock," Molly said timidly. She backed away and I waved lazily at her. The front door opened and closed and I peered at it. "I'm hungry," I mumbled slowly. I struggled to my feet and began to slowly climb the stairs. I leaned heavily on the wall and Sherlock gripped my right elbow, ready to catch me if I fell. I stumbled into the flat and headed towards the kitchen. "I want…. chocolate chip cookies," I sighed.

"I can make them. It's all chemistry," Sherlock said carefully.

"Would you? That'd be wonderful," I sighed happily. I walked over to the counter and struggled to sit on it. Sherlock watched me for a moment. "Help?" I asked. He sighed and walked towards me. I grinned as he grabbed my waist and easily lifted me up onto the counter. "Thanks," I said with a lopsided grin. I leaned my chin on my hand and watched him make the batter beside me, swinging my feet slightly. Sherlock scooped out the first batch and set them in the oven. He then turned to face me. I stuck my finger in the batter and licked it off and he made a disgusted noise. "What?" I mumbled.

"That's deplorable. Raw eggs are not even remotely appetizing," he replied. I giggled and fiddled with the bow in my hair. I struggled to take it out for a moment before I shot him a pleading look, and he sighed. He walked over and stood between my knees as he undid the clasp on the bow and pulled it free. "Thank you," I sighed and brushed my fingers through my hair. He set the bow down on the counter beside me and stepped back. I grinned lazily at him and set my palms flat on the counter behind me. I leaned back on them and let my head hang back. "How much longer?" I sighed.

"Ten minutes," Sherlock replied. I sighed loudly and slowly slid off the counter. I landed on my feet and wobbled slightly. "I'm okay," I said and waved my hand at him. I shuffled to his room and he followed close behind me. I slowly lowered myself on the floor next to my bags and sorted through them. "Where's my everything?" I whined and began to frantically search.

"I organized," Sherlock said slowly from the doorway. I turned to glare at him over my shoulder. "Help me, then," I mumbled. I was starting to sober up, and it was not a pleasant experience. Sherlock walked towards me with his hands behind his back and stood over my shoulder. I sighed and reached up to pull on his shirt so he was forced to sit beside me. He helped me find my red tank top and brown cotton shorts. I slowly stood and pulled my shirt off. He had seen me shirtless plenty of times, it was nothing new. I struggled to pull on the tank top for a moment before it finally cooperated. I pulled off my leggings and replaced them with the shorts. I threw my clothes in the pile of dirty laundry and slowly sat back on the floor next to Sherlock. He watched me carefully. "Are you sober yet?" he asked.

"Getting there," I mumbled. A loud incessant beeping sounded from the kitchen and Sherlock launched himself to his feet. He headed into the kitchen and I slowly stood. I walked into the kitchen and watched him pull the cookies out. "Smells great," I sighed. I shuffled over to the fridge and pulled out the milk. Sherlock handed me two cups and I grinned. "You're going to eat?" I asked.

"I'm not on a case," he replied. I nodded slowly and poured two servings of milk. I handed one to him and carried mine to the table. He set the next batch into the oven and carried a plate of cookies over to the table. "John is missing out," I muttered as I reached for a cookie. They were still warm, but cool enough to touch. I sighed happily as I took a huge bite. It was delicious. The center was still slightly gooey and the chocolate was perfectly melted. Sherlock reached for his own and took a much smaller bite. I finished my first cookie and immediately reached for another. I sighed happily. "Thank you, Shezza," I said quietly.

"It was nothing," he replied around a mouthful of cookie. I yawned and listened to John enter the building. He walked up the stairs and turned to stare at us from the doorway. I gave him a goofy grin and reached for a third cookie. Sherlock stood to pull out the second and last batch of cookies to cool. "Hey," John said as he sat down. He looked tired and I reached over to brush my fingertips over his cheek. "Hi," I sighed.

"Are you drunk?" he asked slowly.

"I was, sobering up quite nicely now," I mumbled around a mouthful of cookie. Sherlock sat down once more and reached for another cookie. "It's too quiet," I sighed. John took his own cookie and hummed appreciatively as he chewed. I leaned my forehead on my arms and squeezed my eyes shut. A massive headache had flared up and it made me nauseous. "What time is it?" I asked.

"Almost three in the morning, why?" John replied.

"I have to work tomorrow," I whined. John chuckled and Sherlock sighed. I yawned again and slowly picked my head up. I peered at Sherlock before standing and shuffling down the hall to his room. I had been sleeping in here for a few weeks now, he hardly slept anyways. When he did, it was similar to attempting to wake the dead. I crawled across the mattress to the far side and slowly pulled off my shorts. It was hot in his room. I threw them in the general direction of my things and curled up on my side, away from the door. I yawned and listened to the boys. John was asking Sherlock about cases and Sherlock was complaining about being bored. I reached for my phone and slowly brought it to my face. I texted Sherlock

**Be quiet and come to bed. **

And then I texted John

**Go to bed. **

I slowly set my phone on the ground beside the bed and waited for Sherlock. I listened to them say goodnight and then Sherlock walked down the hallway. I looked over my shoulder at him before turning back around. I listened to the rustle of fabric as he dressed for bed and felt the bed dip behind me. He was quiet as he settled on his back behind me. "Are you going to sleep?" I asked quietly.

"Most likely," he replied. I rolled over to face him and smiled slightly. His hair was tousled and his skin stood out against the darkness of the room. He looked over at me and returned my smile with a smirk. "Christmas is coming," I pointed out.

"Mrs. Hudson wants to have a party here. Wants to string up fairy lights and a tree. Oh joy," Sherlock muttered. I giggled at him. "What do you want for Christmas?" I asked casually.

"Me?" he said glancing down at me. I nodded eagerly and waited for his response. "Cigarettes," he replied after a few moments of silence.

"You can hide them in my stuff, I won't tell John," I said with a wink. He smirked at me and slowly inched down farther on the bed so his head was resting on the pillows. I rolled onto my stomach and turned my face so I could see him. His dark curls were thrown widely about the pillow as he gazed up at the ceiling. "I assume you want a gift in return," Sherlock said quietly.

"Adult sized footie pajamas with little duckies on it," I said with a goofy grin.

"Why?" he asked with a perplexed expression.

"They're cozy and I can embarrass the hell out of myself in front of guests," I mumbled.

"Are you being serious?" he asked slowly.

"I'm always serious," I replied. I yawned and stifled it in the pillow next to me. Sherlock peered over at me before rolling over as well. We were face to face, and a spanse of 8 inches stretched between us. I smirked at him with my eyes closed and listened to his breathing. It was deep and even. I fell easily into a deep sleep.

I woke up the next morning with a massive headache. I squinted my eyes open and look around. I was still on my stomach, but Sherlock had rolled over so he was resting on my back. His right arm had curved around to press his hand flat to my stomach and my tank-top had risen to reveal way too much skin. His head was resting on my left shoulder blade and he was snoring softly. I smiled slightly and tried not to pay attention to the way his curls tickled my skin. I stayed still but Sherlock woke soon after me, sensing the change in my breathing. He lifted his head and glanced around. "Oh," he breathed when he realized he was touching my bare skin. He slowly pulled his arm away and rolled onto his back. "Why'd you leave?" I sighed as the cool air hit my exposed skin. I slowly sat up and a wave of nausea hit me. "Oh, God," I huffed and pressed my right palm to my face. I pulled my hand away and slowly stood. I stumbled out of the room and hastily tied my hair back. I headed immediately for the bathroom and puked. After several more violent sessions, I sobbed. I always cried when I puked, no matter the reason. I rested my forehead on my forearm that was leaning on the seat and sobbed quietly. "You okay?" John asked from the doorway.

"Go away," I muttered as I tried to stop my crying. Despite my wishes, he slowly walked into the bathroom and sat beside me. "Why are you crying?" he asked quietly.

"I always cry when I throw up. Can't be helped," I replied with my eyes squeezed shut. John hummed in response and watched me in silence. I regained control of my breathing and slowly reached up with my other hand to flush the toilet. I rubbed my tears away and silently climbed to my feet. I stepped over John and shuffled back to Sherlock's room. John followed and watched me flop face down over the covers. Sherlock had gone into the living room in my absence. Good riddance. "Do you need anything?" John asked carefully.

"Some coffee would be nice," I mumbled into the mattress.

"Right," John said before turning to leave the room. My skin felt feverish so I slowly reached down to yank my tank top off. I dropped it on the floor beside the bed and relished in the cool air. John came back in and silently set a cup of coffee on the nightstand. "Thanks," I mumbled. I opened one eye to peer at him. "You don't have to hover. I'll be fine," I muttered. John smiled slightly before turning to leave. I closed my eyes again and groaned quietly. My head was pounding fiercely. I sighed and rolled over onto my back. I glanced over at the steaming coffee and slowly reached for it. I sat up with a grimace and slowly drank it. It was bitter and uncomfortable in my stomach, but the caffeine helped my headache. I slowly crawled off the bed and grabbed one of Sherlock's dressing gowns. I mechanically pulled it on and tied it loosely. I shuffled over to my things and searched for my sunglasses. I put them on and sighed in relief. The light wasn't so agitating anymore. I pulled on a pair of socks and carried my cup out of the room.

"I'm thinking of quitting Skippy's," I said from my perch on John's chair to the room.

"Why?" John asked from his computer.

"Well, when my dad died I had plenty of money from my inheritance. I took the job for something to do, not the money," I responded. My sunglasses were still perched on my nose and I was sitting with my feet hanging over the armrests. Sherlock was plucking the strings on his violin on the couch quietly. "I think I am going to quit Skippy's," I muttered before reaching for my phone. John looked at me quizzically before returning to his blogging. I called the bar and promptly told them to shove it, and hung up. "Done. I'm free tonight. Shezza, would you like to go out?" I said with a small grin.

"Out?" he asked slowly still plucking the strings.

"Yeah. Christmas shopping. Dinner. The whole deal," I said with a dismissive wave. "John has a date."

"Yes, I do," John confirmed. I smirked at him before looking over at Sherlock, waiting for his answer. He had receded into his mind, and I knew him well enough to wait it out. I dozed off as I waited and jerked awake ten minutes later when he finally agreed. Mrs. Hudson came into the flat at the moment and looked at me strangely. "What?" I muttered as I let my head fall back.

"Why are you wearing those inside?" she asked as she puttered around the room.

"Hangover," I mumbled. I listened to her straighten things and smirked at Sherlock's protests when she touched Billy the skull. "I'm not your housekeeper," she called as she walked out of the building.

"Sure," I muttered under my breath. I sighed loudly and reached for my phone once more. I fidgeted with it for a moment before resigning myself to tossing it into the air and catching it. I curled my free arm behind my head and swung my legs slightly. "Any cases lately?" I asked as I caught my phone for what seemed to be the hundredth time.

"No," Sherlock sighed. He stood suddenly, startling me. I missed the catch and the phone smacked my in the chin. "Ow," I mumbled and rubbed the sore spot. I watched him walk around for a moment before setting his violin down and heading in my direction. I watched him warily as he sat across from me. "Is your brother and mummy coming to the Christmas party Mrs. Hudson insist on having?" Sherlock asked suddenly.

"Yes, why?" I asked slowly.

"They better not be boring," was his muttered response. I raised my eyebrows slightly and resumed my previous activity. Sherlock drummed his fingers on the arms of his chair and tapped his feet slightly. "Will you be still?" I sighed.

"I'm bored," he said while dancing in his seat.

"Go shower while I eat lunch, and then we can leave when I finish my shower," I replied with a wave.

"Okay," he said slowly before standing and heading to the bathroom. I smirked slightly and slowly stood. I headed into the kitchen and peered into the fridge. I ignored the various body parts and reached for the parts of a sandwich. I constructed one for John and I and set his beside him at the computer. "Oh, thank you," he said with a glance in my direction. I gave him a two-fingered salute and headed back for his chair. I turned on the telly and munched on my sandwich while watching crap telly. I finished in record time and carried my plate back into the kitchen. I returned to John's chair and sat down with my eyes glued to the telly, my sunglasses still perched on my nose.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Several hours later, I was leading the way around a popular row of shops. Sherlock followed behind me silently and hardly let more than two feet come between us. I smirked when I spotted a group of women gawking over him. I slyly laced my fingers with his and smirked in their direction. They glared in response and I pulled Sherlock into my favorite store.

The store was large but cozy. It was filled with rows of odd knick knacks and I milled around aimlessly, Sherlock's hand still gripped in mine. "I need a present for seven people," I muttered as I peered around. "And, you are not allowed to comment on my choices." He sighed quietly behind me and followed me willingly around the store. It took me an hour to pick out all of the items, and he remained silent the entire time. My choices were strange, but that was just how I ran things. I paid for my items and dragged him across the street to pick out wrapping paper.

We were soon in a cafe with my bags piled on the extra chair at our table. I had ordered a pasta dish and Sherlock typically copied me or stole from my plate. Today, he was stealing from my plate. I sighed and leaned my chin in my hand on the table. I stared at him blankly as he peered out the window at the people conducting their own shopping. The cute waitress walked over with my order and set it down carefully. "Thank you," I said with a grin. She smiled back and glanced at Sherlock before walking away. I picked up my fork and carefully twirled pasta onto my fork. Sherlock absentmindedly grabbed his fork and reached across the table to cut his own piece. I glared at him and shoved the pasta in my mouth. It was very tasty and satisfying. He smirked back and ate his bite. "Would you like to help me wrap presents?" I asked before sipping my water.

"Boring," he sighed. I rolled my eyes at him and continued eating. We fought over the last bite and I almost threw my fork at him in the process. I was giggling uncontrollably as I shoved the bite in my mouth. He glared at me for a moment before leaning back in his chair to pout. He turned his face away from me and sniffed. "Oh, don't pout. It's unbecoming," I teased.

"I do not pout," he scoffed.

"You are. Right now," I pointed out. He sniffed again and the waitress returned. She took my plate and offered dessert. I declined, as well as Sherlock, and he paid for the meal. I stood and grabbed my coat and slowly pulled it on while Sherlock hastily wrapped himself with practiced ease. He drummed his fingers on his thigh as he waited for me, and then held out his elbow for me to take. "Such a gentleman," I said with a pretend feint. I snorted and lead the way to the sidewalk. We roamed around for a little bit, but then he hailed a taxi and we headed back to Baker Street.

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I couldn't keep the grin off my face when my mum and brother showed up at Baker Street for Christmas. I spent the majority of my time with Patrick. We were as close as could be. "Hey, Pat?" I asked from my perch on the couch. He was sitting on the floor by my head, watching John and Mrs. Hudson string up the fairy lights and other decorations. "Yes, Jamie," he asked while turning his head to look in my eyes.

"Wanna go get drunk after this silly holiday?" I asked with a sly grin.

"Absolutely not," John said from across the room. I shifted my gaze to him and glared. Patrick chuckled and shook his head. "Come on, please?" I whined and pulled on Pat's ear.

"Your friend said no," Patrick replied, placing emphasis on 'friend'. I flicked him in the ear and scrambled away before he could retaliate. I wound up tangled in the dressing gown I borrowed from Sherlock and flat on the floor. Patrick tackled me and I let out a screech. I swiped at him and wiggled my hips, trying to throw him off. "Get off!" I whined. He grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head so he could tickle my side. I struggled harder and tears leaked down my face from laughing so hard. "Stop, stop," I whined. John was laughing at our antics and my mum gave us a disapproving glare. Sherlock was ignoring us, quietly plucking on his violin. I finally threw him off after landing a bite on his forearm. He glared at me and rubbed his wound while I pulled myself up from the floor and ran down the stairs. I walked into Mrs. Hudson flat and threw myself down on her couch. "You okay?" John asked from the doorway.

"If I say yes will you leave?" I muttered. I was fighting the onslaught of brutal memories from my time with Ethan. They still terrorized me at the most inopportune moments. "No because I know it's a lie. Want me to get Sherlock?" John said as he walked into the room. I curled up on my side with my face to the back of the couch and sighed. "Already here," Sherlock said as he strutted into the room.

"Arse," I muttered. John huffed and left the room. Sherlock walked over to me and sat on the end of the couch. "He didn't mean any harm," Sherlock said after a moment of silence.

"Doesn't make the memories stop," I sighed. Sherlock shifted his gaze to me and saw me watching him. "Do they know what happened?" he asked carefully.

"Not like you or John do," I sighed. I rolled onto my back and stretched my legs out so my feet were in his lap. I crossed my arms behind my head and met his gaze calmly. "Are you ever going to tell them?" he asked quietly.

"You already know the answer to that," I said with a slight smirk. He smirked back and relaxed into the back of the couch. "Did you get my present?" I asked after a lapse in conversation.

"You will know soon enough," he said without meeting my gaze. A grin spread on my lips and I wiggled my toes excitedly. "You did," I said in a singsong voice.

"I said no such thing," he scoffed. I giggled at him and slowly sat up so our shoulders were brushing. I let my hair fall like a curtain on the opposite side of him and slowly combed my fingers through it. Sherlock watched me for a moment before turning away. I took his brief distraction as my queue to attack. I launched a hug at him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Thanks," I sighed quietly before releasing him. He looked at me warily before slowly smiling back.

Several hours later, we were all crowded upstairs in the living room of 221B. I was sitting on the armrest of Sherlock's chair, hunched over like a vulture, while Mrs. Hudson occupied the seat. Sherlock was playing a beautiful rendition of "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" on his violin, he finished with a flourish and Lestrade whistled in appreciation. "Lovely! Sherlock that was lovely!" Mrs. Hudson said with a happy smile. I looked up and met my brother's gaze and rolled my eyes slightly. He grinned back and my mum glared at us. I glared back and shifted my gaze to Sherlock again. He was watching us carefully and I sighed. I could never keep any secrets around him. I slowly stood and walked into the kitchen to grab a beer. Sherlock set his violin down and followed. "You and your mummy do not get along," Sherlock said softly as I leaned on the counter and opened my beer. I flipped the cap at him and sighed. "No, she's insufferable. She's only here for Patrick. He doesn't like when we 'disagree'," I said with air-quotations. I rolled my eyes and took a swig of my beer. Sherlock watched me before glancing at the group. No one was paying attention to us, and I sighed quietly with relief. "Well, this is exhausting. Think I can run away without Mrs. Hudson noticing?" I said quietly.

"No," he muttered.

"Help me, and I'll reward you," I said with a small smirk.

"Reward?" he asked with a confused look. I reached into the pocket of my sweatpants and slowly pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He smiled slightly. "Merry Christmas to Shezza if you help me escape," I said as I shoved the pack back into my pocket. He rolled his eyes at me and grabbed my elbow. At that moment his phone made that aweful moaning sound. "Fifty-seven?" John called from his perch on the arm of Jeanette's chair. I rolled my eyes and took a long swig of my beer before walking past him and into the living room. He followed and grabbed something off the mantle before heading to his room. I ignored him and headed over to where Molly was standing. "Hey," I said and touched her elbow.

"Hello, Jamie," she said with a small smile. I begin to feel the anxiety in my stomach and I let my gaze travel to Sherlock's door. "Excuse me," I said with a small grimace before I turned and walked to his room. I opened the door without knocking and shut it behind me. "I think you're going to find Irene Adler tonight," Sherlock said into the phone. I slowly leaned back on the door as he listened to the reply. "No, I mean you're going to find her dead," Sherlock said. He hung up and looked at me. I slowly approached him and sat on the bed beside him. "You okay?" I asked carefully.

"Yes," Sherlock replied coldly. I frowned at him and slowly scooted closer. I laid back on the mattress and pulled him down beside me. We rested our heads on opposite arms and I twined our free fingers together between us. "Can we put fairy lights on the ceiling?" I asked quietly.

"No," Sherlock replied with a roll of his eyes. I huffed a sigh and slowly traced patterns on the his hand with my thumb. I looked behind me without lifting my head when the door opened. John stood in the doorway, watching us carefully. "Hello, John," I sighed.

"What are you doing?" he asked slowly.

"Snogging," I muttered. Sherlock shot me a glare, and I giggled. "We're hiding from everyone. I strongly dislike parties," I elaborated.

"Right," John said slowly.

"So, leave. Let me know when they're gone," I said with a wave of my hand. John rolled his eyes at me and shut the door. I turned my gaze to Sherlock and smiled at him. "Merry Christmas," I said as I reached into my pocket to produce a pack of cigarettes. I went to hand them to him, but paused. "You may not smoke them all at once, nor may you have more than one in the span of three days," I said as I held them away from his hand. "And, you will tell me when you smoke one."

"Okay," he sighed, and I set the pack in his waiting hand. He tucked them in the pocket of his dressing gown and I smiled. "Where's my present?" I asked.

"You can open it tomorrow," Sherlock replied. I groaned loudly and rolled over with my feet still hanging off the edge of the bed. "It's hot in here," I sighed. Sherlock sighed when I went to pull my shirt off. "Must you do that? We still have guests," Sherlock muttered as he averted his gaze.

"You've seen me completely naked before, don't be prude," I mumbled into the mattress.

"When?" he asked slowly, his gaze falling on me.

"A month ago? You had to help me out of the shower. I still had a lot of stitches," I reminded him quietly. He stared at me blankly, and I rolled my eyes. "You deleted that, then," I muttered with a small smile.

"It would seem so," he replied. I sighed contentedly and slowly looked up as the door opened again. John stood in the doorway. "Everyone is going home," John said slowly.

"Well, I'm half naked now, so tell them goodbye for me," I muttered.

"You're always half naked," John sighed. I chuckled and let my head drop onto the mattress once more. "You're lucky I don't just walk around naked all the time," I called after him. Sherlock chuckled beside me and sat up. He stood and walked around the end of the bed to head out of the room. "I'll be asleep when you get back," I called after him as he shut the door. I slowly slid my feet down to the floor so I could pull my sweatpants off as well. I then slowly crawled up to his pillows and slid under the sheets. I yawned loudly and drifted off to sleep easily.

I woke up the next morning with a grin on my face. Sherlock's head was on my stomach and he looked like he had just flung himself across the bed. I watched him sleep for a few minutes before carefully extracting myself. I walked around the room in my underwear as I hunted down clothes for the day. I settled on a pair of jeans and a white shirt. I grabbed a bra and panties and prepared myself for the trek to the bathroom. I peeked out into the hall, and upon seeing it clear, I made a dash for the bathroom. I shut the door with a little too much force and winced. I turned on the water and stripped off the rest of my clothes. When it was warm enough, I stepped under the spray and sighed contentedly. I mechanically cleaned myself then stood under the hot water for another ten minutes. When I was finished, I climbed out and towel dried myself off. I pulled on my clothes and brushed my hair. I then braided it and tied it off with a navy blue ribbon. "Hurry up, Jamie," Patrick whined from the other side of the door.

"I'm finished," I said as I opened the door. He sighed in relief before shoving past me and slamming the door shut. I rolled my eyes and walked back to Sherlock's room.


	12. Chapter 12

**Hey guys, I'm really needing some motivation to finish this, so reviews are wonderful. I've got loads of chapters backed up, but I want to space it out. Any errors or conflicts you spot, let me know however you want and i'll fix it to the best of my ability. Thanks for stopping by ;)**

Chapter 12

I walked into the room and hung my towel over the edge of the closet door before turning around to look at Sherlock. He had rolled under the covers, and I could see his bare torso from under the haphazardly strewn sheet. I slowly approached him crawled up on the bed beside him. "Are you sleeping?" I mock whispered.

"No," he said with a small smile, his eyes still closed. I smiled slightly and sat cross-legged beside him. He peeked an eye open at me before closing it again and rolling over. The sheet had ridden down lower and was not wrapped wildly about his hips. "Wait, are you naked?" I gasped.

"Yes," he mumbled. I snorted a laugh and he shot me a glare. "This is my room, do remember that," he said.

"Well, you share with me now," I replied.

"Debatable," he muttered.

"Are we going to open presents soon?" I sighed.

"No," he sighed with a roll of his eyes. I glared at him and flicked his side. He flinched and swatted at my hand. "I'm sleeping," he mumbled.

"No, you're talking to me," I corrected. I flicked him again and he pushed his torso up so he could glare at me. "Stop that," he ordered. I rolled my eyes and pinched him. He hissed and flopped back down. "Stop," he muttered. I giggled and slowly crawled closer. I laid down beside him on top of the sheets and watched his face. "Why do you insist on disturbing me?" he asked as he opened his eyes again.

"It's fun," I said with a sly grin.

"Debatable," he mumbled before yawning quietly. I smiled at him and shut my eyes as well. We laid like that for ten minutes, neither of us fully sleeping. I opened my eyes when a knock sounded at the door. "Hey, Pat," I said with a smile. I lifted my head to peer at him over the bare expanse of Sherlock's back.

"Hey, baby sister. Mum says that breakfast is ready if you want any. We're opening presents afterward," Patrick said with a glance at Sherlock.

"We'll be out soon," I said with a smile. Sherlock grunted and Patrick left with a wave. "You need to get dressed," I said quietly.

"Why?" Sherlock sighed.

"My mum is here, and I'm sure Mrs. Hudson would appreciate it," I replied. Sherlock groaned loudly and rolled away from me. He was right on the edge of the bed and the sheet was wrapped around his waist like a skirt. I flicked him in the sternum and his eyes opened with a glare. "Get up," I ordered.

"No," he huffed.

"I'll push you off the bed," I warned. He glared at me and I lifted my hands warningly. He crossed his arms in defiance and I sighed. "So be it," I said before giving him a shove. He rolled off the bed and onto the floor, flailing as he went. I giggled and peered down at him. He was scowling at me. "Good morning," I said as I climbed off the bed and stepped over him. He caught my ankle and I went crashing to the floor. "Ow," I yelped as I banged my chin.

"Serves you right," Sherlock mumbled. I kicked at him and picked myself up. "Get dressed," I said as I walked out of the room. I entered the kitchen still rubbing my sore chin. Mum and Mrs. Hudson were at the table eating, along with John and Patrick. I walked to the stove and fixed myself a plate before heading into the living room. "Good morning," I said as I sat down in John's chair. A chorus of greetings sounded as I began to eat. I looked up with a smirk when Sherlock walked in in a dress shirt and trousers. He smirked back at me as he approached. He sat in his chair and plucked the toast off my plate. "Oi!" I said and grabbed for it. He took a huge bite and dodged my kicks. I finished eating and carried my plate to the sink as Sherlock's phone rang. He answered it and spoke to the person on the other line for a moment before hanging up. "I'm going to St. Bart's," He announced as he stood to grab his coat.

"Do you need me?" I asked as I walked back into the living room.

"No," he said with a small smile. I nodded slowly and walked up to him. I cupped his cheeks in my hands and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "You, text me," I ordered as he turned to leave. I looked sheepishly around the room and noticed everyone watching our interaction. I gave them a lopsided smile and walked back into Sherlock's room. I grabbed his laptop and crawled onto his bed. Patrick walked in and sat next to me. "I'm gonna redecorate," I said with a grin. I opened his computer and smiled when it didn't have a lock screen. I spent the better part of the morning changing the background on his homepage and messing with his blog. I grinned evilly when I was done and put it back in the exact same place I found it.

I walked into the living room and joined the people gathered around the tree. We opened presents and I smiled when everyone opened my gifts. I gave my mum a cactus, which she loved. I gave John a trip to Paris with his girlfriend, which he spouted endless thanks over. I gave Mrs. Hudson a new hair accessory, and I gave Patrick a toothbrush. It sang "Baby" by Justin Bieber while you brushed your teeth. I giggled uncontrollably at his reaction. We spent the better part of the morning opening gifts and cleaning up. I planned on giving Lestrade a shirt with hamburgers printed all over it, Molly would receive a silver flask, and Mycroft would obtain a gold monocle.

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Several hours later, my phone rang. I opened it and sighed. "He's on his way," Mycroft said from the other end. "Have you found anything?"

"No, did he take the cigarette?" I asked slowly.

"Yes," Mycroft replied.

"Shit," I huffed. I looked around the room for a moment before saying to Mrs. Hudson and John, "He's coming. Ten Minutes."

"There's nothing in the bedroom," Mrs. Hudson replied.

"Looks like he's clean, Mycroft. We've tried all the usual places, are you sure tonight's a danger night?" I said into the phone.

"No, but I never am. You have to stay with him, Jamie," Mycroft replied.

"I have plans," I mumbled.

"No," was Mycroft's curt reply before he hung up.

"Mycroft," I whined. I stuffed my phone in my pocket and looked at my family. "No dinner tonight. I need to be with him. John, Mrs. Hudson, you go. I've got him this time," I said to the group.

"Are you sure?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"Yes, now leave before he gets here," I said while ushering them out. I turned away when they walked down the stairs and headed over to John's chair. I pulled out my phone and tossed it in the air repeatedly as I waited for Sherlock.

"Hello, darling," I said as he walked into the room ten minutes later. He crowded the doorway and studied the room. "Come here," I ordered, not even looking at him. He stalked over to me with his shoulders in a tense line. I sat up and stuffed my phone in my pocket. "Sit," I ordered and pointed to the floor between my feet. He glared at me and settled himself on the ground. I brushed my fingers through his dark curls for an hour, and he slowly relaxed his body. "I hope you didn't mess up my sock index this time," he muttered to my knee. He had his cheek pressed against my left knee and his arms curled around my calf gently. I chuckled and slowly pulled out the pack of cigarettes. "You may have one," I said as I shook it out of the pack. I handed it to him over his shoulder and he leapt up to go stand by the window in his room. I followed him and perched on the windowsill while he sucked in the smoke. He blew it out the window and glanced down at me. "Mycroft gave me low tar," he muttered.

"That's why I love you more," I said with a smirk. He smirked back and took another drag. "Where is everyone?" he asked slowly.

"I sent them away," I replied. Sherlock glanced at me before blowing smoke out the window. I watched him carefully, and realized that it was fascinating to watch him smoke. He seemed completely calm, and I couldn't see his brain running off the track like it normally did. It was nice. I smiled at him when he caught me studying him, and he quirked an eyebrow. "What?" he asked while flicking the ash outside.

"Nothing," I muttered and looked away. He finished his cigarette and sighed contentedly. "Thank you," he said quietly.

"What else do you need?" I said in response.

"Sleep," he replied. I nodded and watched him shake off his coat and scarf. I left the room as he untucked his shirt and undid the buttons. I walked over to the door to the flat and shut it before walking back to his room. He was already under the sheets and I could see that he was completely naked by the pile of clothes on the floor. "Really?" I huffed.

"What?" he mumbled into the pillow.

"Do you have to sleep naked?" I sighed.

"I've got pants on," he muttered. I nodded slowly and pulled off my own clothes before climbing up next to him. He curled his right arm around my waist immediately and sighed quietly. "Mrs. Hudson offered Pat the basement flat," I said as I tucked my arms behind my head.

"Did he take it?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes. I'm going to move in with him," I replied with a grin. He opened his eyes and grinned back. "Oh, a smile," I teased and poked his cheek. He rolled his eyes at me and grimaced instead. I smirked and pinched his bicep. He grumbled at me and pinched the skin over my hipbone. "Ow!" I yelped.

"Retaliation," he muttered. I huffed and listened to the front door of the flat open. One set of feet walked in and the door was shut behind them. I watched Sherlock listen intently to the gait before settling back down. "John," he mumbled to me.

"I've learned his steps too, you know," I muttered. Sherlock mumbled something incoherent into my ribs and sighed. John walked up to the door and knocked quietly before opening it. He studied us before looking at me expectantly. I gave him a small smile and a thumbs up. He nodded and walked away, shutting the door behind him. Sherlock was already asleep, his breath fanning against my ribs. I closed my eyes and slowly followed him.

I woke up around noon the next day, and the flat was empty. I could hear Mrs. Hudson puttering around downstairs, and decided to shower. I had just stepped out wrapped in a towel when a man barged in. He grabbed me in a choke hold and I immediately fought him. He dragged me into the living room as I desperate hung onto my towel and shoved me roughly into a chair next to Mrs. Hudson. She was sobbing quietly and I immediately wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Shame on you," I hissed as I pulled her into me. The man from the CIA responded by pressing a gun with a silencer to the back of my head. I huffed and rubbed circles on Mrs. Hudson's back. "It's quite rude to interrupt a lady while she's showering," I muttered. The man remained silent and I focused on listening. The front door opened and I listened to Sherlock walk in. I knew it was him immediately and smirked. I leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of Mrs. Hudson's head.

Sherlock walked in moments later with his hands behind his back. He studied us and I could see the murderous rage in his face. "I believe you have something we want, Mr. Holmes," the man with the gun said.

"Then why don't you ask for it?" Sherlock replied. He walked towards us and reached out a hand for Mrs. Hudson's. She took it and sniveled into my shoulder. He met my gaze for a moment and then turned back to the intruders. "You know what I'm looking for, Mr. Holmes," the man said.

"I believe I do," he replied as he studied the man. Sherlock released Mrs. Hudson and stood straight again with his hands once more behind his back. "First, get rid of your boys," Sherlock said.

"Why?"

"I dislike being outnumbered. It makes for too much stupid in the room,"

"You two, go to the car,"

"Then, get in the car and drive away. Don't try to trick me, you know who I am. It doesn't work," Sherlock said. The two other men walked out of the room and left the building. "Next, you can stop pointing your gun at me," Sherlock ordered calmly.

"So you can point a gun at me?"

"I'm unarmed," he replied as he stepped back and spread his arms.

"Mind if I check?"

"Oh, I insist," Sherlock replied with a sneer. The man holding the gun walked around from behind us and approached Sherlock. He patted his breast pocket before flipping open his coat. He walked behind him and patted his back. Sherlock slowly bent his arm in, and then produced a can of cleaning spray and sprayed it in the American's eyes. He cried out and Sherlock headbutted him, sending him over the coffee table. He slammed the can down and turned back to us. "Moron," he said and moved towards us quickly. He caressed Mrs. Hudson face gently as He dropped to his knees in front of us. "Oh, thank you," she whispered.

"You're all right now, you're all right," he whispered to her and stroked her face. Mrs. Hudson nodded and he released her to turn to me. I smirked slightly as his eyes quickly studied me, searching for any sign of injury. "Shezza, I'm fine," I mumbled as he grabbed my cheeks as well. He stared into my eyes and pressed a kiss to my forehead. "I know," he said against my skin. I smiled slightly and he released me. I gently pulled Mrs. Hudson up and shuffled back as Sherlock grabbed the American. He pushed him into my chair and bound him. He gagged him as well before rushing out of the flat. He returned moments later and studied the American. "Jamie, go dress yourself," Sherlock said with a glance in my direction. I smiled sheepishly and walked away. I let the towel drop as soon as I stepped into his room and grabbed for a pair of sweats and a shirt. I pulled them on and walked back out into the living room.

"What's going on?" John shouted as he rushed into the room. He studied the scene for a moment. Mrs. Hudson and I had watched Sherlock relentlessly beat the American. He had a broken nose and blood was running in two streams down his face. I smirked and begged Sherlock for a swing. He nodded and said, "Be my guest." I smiled triumphantly and stalked forward. John watched me in utter fascination, as well as Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson. I leaned in close and captured his gaze with my steel gray one. "If you ever touch my landlady again, or anyone fragile and utterly important, I will not hesitate to drive your nose into your brain," I hissed. I slammed my fist into his right cheek and his head snapped to the left. I smiled and stepped away. "What the hell is happening?" John asked as he broke out of his trance.

"Our girls have been attacked by an American, I'm restoring balance to the universe," Sherlock replied. John rushed over to Mrs. Hudson and began to fuss over her. "Downstairs. take her downstairs and look after her," Sherlock ordered him while on the phone. John nodded and gently took her from the room. "Are you gonna tell me what's going on?" John asked as he passed.

"I expect so, now go," Sherlock replied. They turned to look at the American with murderous glares. I smirked at the both of them and walked over to them. I pulled them both into a hug and kissed their cheeks. "Take care of our landlady," I said and shooed John out the door. Sherlock was talking into the phone now, and I waited patiently for him to finish. "He fell out of a window," Sherlock finished. I smirked at the terrified look on the American's face and stalked towards him. Sherlock joined me and we both proceeded to crack a few more ribs and a spare cheekbone here and there. My knuckles split open and they were bleeding as we launched him out of the window together. I was giggling wildly and Sherlock smirked at me. "We're bonding," I said in a singsong voice as I studied my knuckles.

"You sleep in my bed, of course we're bonding," he said. I smiled at him and he took my fingers in his own. "Oh, dear," he sighed in mock concern. He studied my knuckles before kissing each bruise. He looked down at the street below as several police cars and an ambulance pulled up. "Your turn," I said and grabbed for his hands. I inspected his knuckles and smirked. "We're the same," I sighed and pressed kisses to each bruise.

Several minutes later, Sherlock and I were standing out on the sidewalk with Lestrade. "And exactly how many times did he fall out of the window?" Lestrade asked us.

"It's all a bit of a blur, Detective Inspector," I started.

"I lost count," Sherlock finished. Lestrade nodded and walked away. I smiled slightly and his back and turned to Sherlock. "Let's check on our landlady," I said as I laced our bruised hands together. I pulled him to the back entrance to 221A and we walked inside. I immediately headed for the freezer and pulled out the ice cream. Mrs. Hudson watched me as I grabbed a spoon and walked back over to them. I shoveled out a huge glob and ate it as John and Sherlock bickered over the state of Mrs. Hudson. "Jamie, I know you have it," Sherlock said as he watched me eat. I shrugged and stuck the spoon in my mouth. I reached into my pocket and produced the phone. I handed it to him and grabbed the spoon from my mouth.

Several hours later, I was curled up on their couch as John and Sherlock were talking. Big Ben tolled the hour outside and Sherlock turned to us. "Happy New year, John, Jamie," he said before turning back. I smiled slightly and rolled onto my left side. I slowly drifted off to sleep.

I woke slightly when strong arms hoisted me up. "You've got to stop carrying me," I mumbled into Sherlock's neck.

"Stop falling asleep in the chairs," Sherlock replied. He carried me down the hall and into his room. He set me on his bed and crawled in behind me. I rolled onto my stomach and he laid his head in the middle of my back. "You fall asleep in the weirdest places," I muttered to the mattress.

"I'm fine," he mumbled back. I snorted and reached down to tangle our fingers together. We laid like that for several hours, and I found myself not able to fall back asleep. Sherlock had fallen asleep an hour ago and had slowly migrated up my back. His cheek now rested between my shoulder blades and his arm was wrapped around my waist. I sighed quietly and waited for the morning.


	13. Chapter 13

**Just wanted to throw it out there that I'd really like some feedback from you guys. Anything you like or don't like, let me know in whatever way you want and I'll try to fix it if need be. Thanks!**

Chapter 13

A few months later, Patrick and I had successfully moved into 221C. I still spent my nights creeping up to Sherlock's room. Patrick always scolds me when he finds out, but I can't sleep down there. I missed the way Sherlock breathed when he slept, or the way he was always a fuss to get up in the morning. We had gone out for groceries, and, as usual, Sherlock didn't help us carry the bags. He disappeared upstairs and John and I shared an amused grin. John and I carried them upstairs and set them on the table. "Sherlock?" I asked while watching him walk to his room.

"We have a client," Sherlock replied.

"In your bedroom?" I asked as John and I approached him. I peered into the bed and sighed. Irene Adler was curled up on his side of the bed, hugging his pillow. I fought down a grimace and turned to walk back the way I came. I flopped down on the couch and stuffed my nose into the latest book. I wound up falling asleep with the book tented over my face.

I woke up a few hours later as John blurted out "Hamish." I let the book fall onto the floor as I rolled onto my side. "Oh, you've woken her," Irene tsked John. I shot her a glared before rubbing my eyes. I refocused as Irene is leaning towards Sherlock and kissing his cheek. I resist the urge to punch her by repeating "He's not mine," in my head over and over. "There's a margin for error, but I'm pretty sure there's a Seven Forty-Seven leaving Heathrow tomorrow at six thirty in the evening for Baltimore. Apparently it's going to save the world. Not sure how that can be true at the moment, but i've only been on the case for eight seconds," Sherlock said in a rapid voice. He looks around at John and Irene before explaining his deduction. He stood and glanced down at Irene when he was finished. "Please don't feel obliged to tell me that was remarkable or amazing. John and Jamie have expressed the same thought in every possible variant in the English language," Sherlock said to her. I scoffed and rolled away from them. I can't help listening to her response. "I would have you right here on this desk until you begged for mercy twice," she said with an intense voice.

"John, can you please check those flight schedules? See if I'm right," Sherlock said.

"Uh-huh, I'm on it, yeah," John replied in a daze. I listened to John type on his computer and slowly sat up. I walked across the flat and into Sherlock's room. I sighed as I searched through my stuff. I smiled slightly when I found what I was looking for. I shook a cigarette from the box and stuck it behind my ear as I hunted down the lighter. I had broken this habit years ago, before I was in college. The intense eyesex Irene and Sherlock were having was making me ill. I walked back out and John studied me. "You smoke?" he asked with surprise as he spotted the cigarette still behind my ear.

"Not since high school," I replied. I grabbed my trainers and stuffed my feet into them. "Don't start again. It's unhealthy," John scolded.

"Okay, dad," I called as I stomped down the stairs. I grabbed the cigarette and stuck it between my lips while walking out of the building. I walked over to the exact spot Jim and I had made out and lit the cigarette. I took a long drag and held it as long as I could. I shivered as the nicotine took effect in my deprived system. I blew it out slowly and immediately pulled in another lungful. I blew that out too and shut my eyes. I sighed contentedly and went for another drag. Sherlock eventually walked out of the building to stand beside me. I made sure to blow my smoke in his face, which he inhaled deeply. "Thank you," he sighed. I nodded and took another drag, flicking the ashes. I blew that in his face too, and passers by spared us a second glance. "Mind your business," I called with a wave of my hands. They turned and scuttled away. I took another drag and held it. My eyes watered as my lungs burned, but I still blew it at Sherlock. He smiled at me and kissed my temple. "No, I don't want your silly kisses. Not with The Woman here," I muttered and swatted at him.

"Oh, jealous Jamie?" Sherlock teased. I rolled my eyes at him and took my final drag. I held it while I disposed of the butt on the ground. I looked up at Sherlock and he had a pleading look on his face. I blew it at him and smirked as he breathed it in. "You're so desperate," I sighed.

"I'm an addict," he said back. I nodded at him and followed him back inside. I immediately went into his room and shut the door. I curled up on his bed and sighed. I was content and relaxed, and I had never realized how bad I missed smoking. I used to chain smoke before and after school, and Patrick would scold me. He never told mum though.

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Several hours later, I was perched on Mycroft's desk in his office with a glass of brandy, waiting for Sherlock and Irene to show. I sipped my drink and swung my feet slightly. I was wearing my bright blue trainers and jeans. My shirt was bright yellow with a smiley face on it. Contrary to my shirt, I had a deep scowl on my face. I leaned back on my left hand and clutched the glass in my right. I stared down into my glass, my mood perfectly described as a thunderstorm.

Halfway to the bottom of my glass, Mycroft led Irene and Sherlock into the room. Sherlock studied me before shifting his gaze to his older brother. "Ms. McConnell, I told you not to touch that," Mycroft scolded. I shrugged and finished the drink in one go. I handed him the glass and he set it back with the bottle. Mycroft turned back to us and gestured for them to seat themselves at the table. Irene complied, but Sherlock stalked across the room to sit in the chairs by the fire. I huffed a sigh and slid down from Mycroft's desk. I walked around and sat in the chair behind it, propping my feet up on the desk. Mycroft gave me a disapproving frown before turning to speak to Irene. "We have people who can get into this," Mycroft said as he gestured to the camera phone.

"I tested that theory for you. I let Sherlock Holmes try it for six months," Irene replied. "Sherlock, dear, tell him what you found when you x-rayed my phone."

"There are four additional units wired in the casing, I suspect containing acid or a small amount of explosive," Sherlock replied flatly. I slowly swivel back and forth as I studied my fingernails. "Any attempt to open the casing will burn the hard drive." Sherlock continued.

"Explosive," Irene confirmed. "It's more me."

"Some data is always recoverable," Mycroft said.

"Take the risk?"

"You have a passcode to open this. I deeply regret to say that we have people who can extract it from you,"

"Sherlock?" Irene prompted.

"There will be two passcodes: one to open the phone and one to burn the drive. Even under duress, you can't know which one she's given you and there will be no point in a second attempt," he said flatly.

"He's good isn't he? I should have him on a leash- in fact, I might," Irene said. I rolled my eyes and chewed my nails. "We destroy this, then. No one has the information," Mycroft suggested.

"Fine. Good idea… unless there are lives of British citizens depending on the information you're about to burn," Irene countered.

"Are there?" Mycroft asked.

"Telling you would be playing fair. I'm not playing anymore," Irene replied. "A list of my requests, and some ideas about my protection once they're granted." I listened to Mycroft pick up the paper she had slid towards him and sighed softly. "I'd say it wouldn't blow much of a hole in the wealth of the nation- but then I'd be lying," Irene said. "I imagine you'd like to sleep on it."

"Thank you, yes," Mycroft replied.

"Too bad," Irene replied. Sherlock and I snorted in amusement. "Off you pop, and talk to people," Irene said.

"You've been very...thorough. I wish our lot were half as good as you," Mycroft said with a sigh.

"I can't take all the credit. Had a bit of help," Irene replied. "Oh, Jim Moriarty sends his love." I looked up and extreme terror spread in my chest. My heart flew into my throat and I struggled to keep my expression neutral. It couldn't be the same Jim. That would be too cruel. I fidgeted slightly and listened to the conversation once more. "I had all this stuff, never knew what to do with it. Thank God for the consultant criminal. Gave me a lot of advice on how to play the Holmes boys. Do you know what he calls you? The Ice Man and the Virgin," Irene said from her perch on the table. "Didn't even ask for anything. I think he just likes to cause trouble. Now that's my kind of man." Sherlock sighed softly from his chair, and I let my eyes land on him for a moment. "And here you are, the dominatrix who brought the nation to it's knees," Mycroft said solemnly. "Nicely played."

"No," Sherlock said. We all turned to look at him. A grin spread on my face, he had figured something out. "Sorry?" Irene asked.

"I said no. Very, very close, but no," he repeated. He stood and walked towards her. "You got carried away. The game was too elaborate. You were enjoying yourself too much," he continued.

"No such thing as too much," Irene replied.

"Oh, enjoying the thrill of the chase is fine, craving the distraction of the game- I sympathize entirely- but sentiment? Sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side," he said as he loomed over her. I could see his teeth slightly bared at the last word. "Sentiment? What are you talking about?" Irene asked.

"You,"

"Oh, dear God. Look at the poor man. You don't actually think i was interested in you? Why? Because you're the greatest Sherlock Holmes, the clever detective in the funny hat?" Irene said with a perplexed look.

"No," Sherlock replied. He reached out and wrap his fingers around the wrist of her left hand, and leaned in close to whisper in her ear. He leaned back and picked up the camera phone after he released her. "I imagine John Watson thinks love's a mystery to me but the chemistry is incredibly simple, and very destructive," he said in a normal voice. He turned and walked away from her, and she followed closely. "When we first met, you told me that a disguise is always a self-portrait. How true of you: the combination of your safe- your measurements; but this.." he continued, tossing the phone into the air and catching it. "... this is far more intimate." He switched on the screen and said, "This is your heart." He didn't break his eye-contact with her while continuing. "..And you should never let it rule your head," he said as he began to type. "You could have chosen any random number and walked out of here today with everything you've worked for.." he continued typing as he spoke. " … but you couldn't resist it, could you?" Her breathing became erratic as he slowly hit the third character. "I've always assumed that love is a dangerous disadvantage," he said while going to type the fourth character. Irene grabbed his hand and gazed at him with despair. "Everything I said: it's not real," she said softly but ended with a whisper. Sherlock whispered back before typing the last character. "And this is just losing," he said in a normal voice. He showed her the screen and she began to cry, and Sherlock handed the phone to Mycroft. "There you are, brother. I hope the contents make up for any inconvenience I may have caused you tonight," Sherlock said without breaking eye contact with Irene.

"I'm certain they will," Mycroft replied. Sherlock tossed a gaze at me as he turned to leave. I slowly stood from my perch and followed him out. "If you're feeling kind, lock her up; otherwise, let her go. I doubt she'll survive long without her protection," Sherlock said as he paused to wait for me. I stepped beside him and glanced back at Irene. "Are you expecting me to beg?" she asked.

"Yes," Sherlock replied in a flat voice. He waited by the door, and I laced our fingers together subtly. "Please," she said quietly. "You're right." He turned to look at her, pulling our laced hands behind his back. "I won't last six months," she cried.

"Sorry about dinner," Sherlock replied before turning and pulling me out of the door behind him.

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A few days later, Sherlock was perched at the kitchen table peering into his microscope, and Patrick and I were watching crap telly. I looked up as John walked in. "Clearly you've got news," Sherlock said without evening looking up. "If it's about the Leed's triple murder, it was the gardener. Nobody noticed the earring," he said without looking.

"Hi, no, er, um," he started before taking a few steps into the kitchen. "It's about Irene Adler." I looked up to gauge Sherlock's reaction. "Oh? Something happen? Has she come back?" he said as he looked up with an unreadable face.

"No, she's, er… I just bumped into Mycroft downstairs. He had to take a call," John began. I stood and walked over to peer down to the street below. I could see Mycroft standing under his umbrella next to Speedy's. I looked back to the boys as Sherlock said, "Is she back in London?"

"No, she's, er," John began. "She's in America."

"America?"

"Mhmm. Got herself in the witness protection scheme, apparently. Dunno how she swung it, but, er, well, you know,"

"I know what?"

"Well, you wouldn't be able to see her again,"

"Why would I want to see her again?"

"Didn't say you did," John said with a rueful smile as Sherlock turned to walk back to his seat. I peered at the both of them and sighed. "Is that her file?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, I was gonna take it back to Mycroft,"

"Do you want to..?" John said and offered it to Sherlock.

"No," Sherlock replied. John hummed for a moment before glancing at me. He saw my accusatory gaze and looked away. I stepped closer to them and crossed my arms. "Listen, actually," John began.

"Oh, but I will have the camera phone, though," Sherlock said and held out his hand.

"There's nothing on it anymore, it's been stripped."

"I know, but I.." he started. "I'll still have it." I tuned them out after that and headed back to Patrick. I curled up in Sherlock's chair and gazed at the telly blankly. I sighed quietly and closed my eyes. My head was pounding and I was having nicotine withdrawal. "Sherlock?" I called as John left.

"Yes?" Sherlock asked from the window.

"Where are the patches?" I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. John had found our pack and threw them away, so I was stuck with the nicotine patches. "In my drawer," Sherlock replied. I stood up and shuffled over to his room to rifle through his sock drawer. I found the pack and pulled out two. I peeled off the back and stuck them both to my left forearm. I smiled slightly and headed back to the living room to curl up on the couch. "How many?" Patrick asked from John's chair.

"Two," I mumbled. Patrick sighed in disapproval and I glared at him. "I used to chain smoke, you're lucky I don't have eight," I muttered. He rolled his eyes at me and Sherlock continued to stare out of the window. I squeezed my eyes closed and waited for the patches to work. John walked back upstairs and looked around the room. "Jamie," John sighed when he saw the patches.

"John," I replied.

"Two?"

"At least it's not eight, dad," I scoffed and rolled away. I was in a sour mood from the time I walked into Mycroft's office a month ago. Nothing could cheer me up. I was prone to snapping at people and then lying around with nicotine patches stuck to my arms. The highest I ever had was five. John and Patrick had been adamant about getting me off of them, but Sherlock always supplied my needs. I smiled slightly. He would do anything for me and John.

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Sherlock and I stepped into the living room of 221B dripping in blood. I giggled at John's outraged expression. "Well, that was tedious," Sherlock said.

"You went on the tube like that?" John shouted.

"None of the cabs would take us," I scoffed. Sherlock led the way to his room and I smiled brightly. He had started bringing me on his cases since John never had time for us. I had cut down on the nicotine patches immensely, and I found myself getting high off the adventures of Sherlock Holmes. I could see the battlefield spread out before us. Sherlock leaned the harpoon on the wall and smiled brightly at me. "I look like a massacre," I cried as I peered into the mirror. My white shirt and jeans were drenched in bright red blood. My hair was crusted with it and it stuck out oddly. "You shower downstairs," Sherlock ordered from behind me.

"Duh," I said. I watched him gather up his clean clothes and disappear into the bathroom. I walked back out of his room and immediately headed to the basement. Patrick had gotten a job a few weeks ago, so he was never around. Mrs. Hudson didn't see me, luckily, and I immediately stripped off my blood soaked clothes as I stepped into the flat. I walked to the bathroom and turned the water on for the shower. When it was sufficiently warm, I stepped under the spray and waited for the water to rinse all of the blood off. I then scrubbed my hair and body with the various soaps and stepped out to get dressed.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

An hour later, I was curled up in John's chair while Sherlock paced around, still carrying the harpoon. "Nothing?" he asked John, who was flipping through the newspaper.

"Military coup in Uganda," John replied. I sighed loudly and Sherlock glanced at me. "Another photo of you with the, er…" John said as he chuckled and pointed at a photo. Sherlock made a revolted noise and I laughed. John moved on to another newspaper. "Oh, um, cabinet reshuffle," John said.

"Nothing of importance?" Sherlock said furiously. I watched him warily as he slammed the end of the harpoon on the ground. "Oh, God!" he cried. "John, I need some, get me some."

"No," he said calmly.

"Get me some," Sherlock ordered.

"No," John repeated. He pointed sternly at him. "Cold turkey, we agreed, no matter what." Sherlock leaned the harpoon on the table. "Anyway, you and Jamie have paid everyone off in a two mile radius. No one will sell to you, remember?" John continued. I groaned loudly at the memory. I was going through withdrawls now. "Shut up about them!" I shouted and itched the inside of my elbow. "Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock shouted angrily. Sherlock searched around frantically before turning his most appealing look on John. "Please," he begged.

"Can't help, sorry," John replied, immune to his looks.

"I'll let you know next week's lottery numbers," Sherlock offered. John chuckled and I bounced my knees impatiently. "Shut up, shut up," I repeated quietly.

"Oh, it was worth a try," Sherlock scoffed. He looked around before hurtling himself onto the ground and searching the fireplace. Mrs Hudson appeared and crowed in dismay at the state of the flat. I curled up tighter in the chair and refrained from itching my arms raw. "My secret supply: what have you done with my secret supply?" Sherlock said as he continued his search.

"Eh?"

"Cigarettes! What have you done with them? Where are they?" Sherlock shouted angrily.

"You know you never let me touch your things!" she cried. I leapt up from my seat and ran down the stairs. I ran into the basement flat and began to search. "Patrick! I know you have some! Give them to me!" I screamed as I searched under the sofa.

"Cold turkey!" he shouted from the bedroom.

"Don't you love me?" I cried. I crawled to the fireplace and searched there like Sherlock. "I do, and that's why you can't have any," Patrick called. I shouted in dismay and sprawled myself on the floor. "Just one?" I begged.

"No," Patrick said as he approached me.

"Half?" I sighed.

"No," he said and crossed his arms.

"One puff?" I pleaded.

"No," Patrick said. I screamed at him and launched myself to my feet. Sherlock and I always wound up in a panic together. Cases usually stopped it, but sometimes I would run the two miles to get them. I ran up the stairs and back into their flat. Sherlock was in his seat, dancing impatiently. I sat on the floor between his knees and glared at John. "Give me some," I said lowly. Sherlock sighed behind me. "No, especially not you," John replied.

"You don't love me?" I cried. John sighed exasperatedly and I resisted the urge to hit him. I balled my hands into fists and glared at him. Sherlock reached out to me and pulled on my arm. "What?" I muttered. He had calmed down some, but I could still see the desperate panic in his eyes. "I need you, come here," he sighed. I muttered something and stood. I placed my hands on his cheeks and peered into his eyes. "You don't need them. I don't need them. A client will show up soon," I said, desperately trying to keep my voice even. Sherlock looked at me for a moment before sighing. I leaned back slightly and kissed his forehead before sitting down again. I glared at John and crossed my arms. The doorbell rang, and I perked up. "Single ring," I said in a singsong voice.

"Maximum pressure just under the half second," Sherlock said.

"Client," I crowed happily.

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"...sit down, Mr. Knight, and do please smoke. I'd be delighted," Sherlock said to the newcomer. He was an average man with ears that stuck out. Sherlock and I were sitting in dining room chairs across from John's vacant seat. John was somewhere behind us. Henry Knight had just told us about a massive hound tearing his father apart in Dartmoor. It was supposedly a Baskerville genetic experiment. Sherlock and I had scoffed him, and John had tried to convince him to stay. Sherlock explained to an exasperated Henry how he noticed all of that about him. "It's my job," Sherlock said after Henry had commented on how quick Sherlock was. I rolled my eyes and waited patiently for him to smoke. I had picked up the strange habit Sherlock had, breathing in secondhand smoke as a supplement. "Now shut up and smoke," I said impatiently. Henry looked at me briefly before taking out a cigarette and lighting it. I grinned as he took his first drag. "Um, Henry, your parent both died, and you were, what, seven years old?" John said from behind us.

"I know… that… my," he started but stopped when Sherlock and I began fighting over the smoke he exhaled. I was triumphant, but only because I threw myself in Sherlock's way and used his thighs to lean forward. I sat back contentedly and held the smoke in my lungs. I sighed happily and Sherlock pouted. "That must be a… quite a trauma. Have you ever thought that maybe you invented this story, this.." John said, trying desperately to ignore us. Henry exhaled again, and Sherlock threw his left arm across my chest to block me as he inhaled the smoke. "... to account for it?" John finished. Sherlock turned to me smugly and blew in my face. I smiled slightly and breathed in the faint cigarette smoke. "That's what Doctor Mortimer says," Henry said as he looked away from us. I made kissy faces at Sherlock before turning to look at Henry patiently. "Who?" John asked.

"His therapist," Sherlock and I said simultaneously.

"Yes," Henry said slowly.

"Obviously," Sherlock scoffed.

"Louise Mortimer. She's the reason I came back to Dartmoor. She thinks I have to face my demons," Henry elaborated. I stood and trekked across the room and down the hall to Sherlock's room. I dug through his sock door with the door wide open, and I could feel them watching me as they continued to speak. I was entirely bored with Henry Knight. His story sounded like a made up fairytale from the mind of a scared little boy. I found the pack of patches and stuck one to my arm before returning to the room. I laid down on the couch beside John and placed my feet in his lap. He ignored me and continued to speak to Henry. "Mr. Holmes they were the footprints of a gigantic hound!" Henry shouted to Sherlock's retreating form. Sherlock paused and asked him to repeat exactly what he said.

"Mr. Holmes… they were the footprints of a… gigantic hound," Henry said timidly. Sherlock turned back around and glanced at me. "I'll take the case," he said.

"Sorry, what?" John said, startled.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention. It's very promising," Sherlock said with his fingers steepled in front of his mouth, pacing.

"No-no-no, sorry, what? A minute ago, footprints were boring; now they're very promising?" John said desperately.

"It's nothing to do with the footprints, John. As ever, you weren't listening. Ever heard of Baskerville?" Sherlock said as he stopped to face us.

"Vaguely. It's very hush-hush," John replied.

"Sounds like a good place to start," Sherlock said offhandedly.

"Ah! You'll come down, then?" Henry said happily.

"No, I can't leave London at the moment. Far too busy. Don't worry- I'm putting my best man on it," Sherlock said and gestured to John. "Always rely on John to send me the relevant data, as he never understands a word of it himself."

"What are you talking about, you're busy? You don't have a case! A minute ago you were complaining…" John said.

"Bluebell, John! I've got Bluebell! The case of the vanishing, glow-in-the-dark rabbit," Sherlock interrupted before turning to Henry. "NATO's in uproar."

"Oh, sorry, no, you're not coming, then?" Henry said. Sherlock put on a regretful expression and shook his head sadly. I sniggered and John groaned loudly. "Okay," John said and headed towards the mantelpiece. "Okay," he repeated with a smug smile. He lifted Billy and tossed a pack of cigarettes at Sherlock. I shouted happily and Sherlock tossed them to me. "I don't need those anymore. I'm going to Dartmoor," Sherlock said with a grin. He walked out of the living room. "You go on ahead, Henry, we'll follow later," Sherlock said.

"Er, sorry, you are coming?" Henry said carefully as he stood.

"Twenty year disappearance; a monstrous hound? I wouldn't miss this for the world!" Sherlock said. I grinned at him and John and stuffed the cigarettes in my bra. John glared at me, and I childishly stuck my tongue out at him. Henry left the flat and I stood to follow him down the stairs. I headed into the basement and began to pack a bag.

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I was practically giddy as we climbed into the Range Rover to drive to Grimpen Village. Sherlock was driving and I was in the passenger seat. John was in the middle seat behind us. I reached into my bra and pulled out the cigarettes. "No," John said from behind me and reached for the pack.

"Yes," I said and leaned out of his reach. I rolled down the window and stuck a cigarette between my lips. I reached over into Sherlock's coat pocket and grabbed his lighter. He smirked at me as I lit the cigarette before dropping the lighter back into his pocket. "I do what I want, Johnny Boy," I said triumphantly as I exhaled out the window.

"Lung cancer is a terrible way to die," John shot back. I giggled and took another long drag. Sherlock watched me breathe it out the window. "Share, Jamie," Sherlock scolded.

"Oh, sorry," I said with a mischievous smile. I took another drag and breathed it at him. He inhaled and rolled down his window to breathe it out. John huffed from behind us and pouted. "Oh dear, he's pouting now," I sighed dramatically.

"I'm not," John replied.

"You are," I said in a singsong voice. "Cigarettes make me happy, John. It's either cigarettes or and endless supply of cases."

"We're on a case," John replied.

"We're in a Range Rover, heading to a case. I have done no work, therefore, smoking," I replied and waved the cigarette. Sherlock snorted at me and watched me take another drag out of the corner of his eye. I was careful to breathe it at him, and he smiled brightly at me. "You are so utterly desperate. I can't believe John is making us quit," I huffed.

"It's a disgusting habit," Sherlock agreed. I laughed at that and took a final long drag. I stuck the butt in the ashtray, after carefully putting it out, and exhaled at Sherlock. "There, all better," I said triumphantly. Sherlock nodded and smiled. John rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat.

When we arrived, we stopped at a parking lot next to the moor. I pulled my trainers on and jumped down. Sherlock threw my jacket at me and I smirked as I pulled it on. It was three inches longer than my waist, and had a high collar. I zipped it closed and leaned on the front of the car to wait for the boys. "Come along, boys," I said with a grin and grabbed both of their hands. I pulled them across the moor towards a huge pile of rocks. "We can see from up there," I suggested as we approached the outcropping. Sherlock gave me a boost up, and I turned to pull him up as well. We climbed up to the top while John remained on the ground with the map. I looked around for a moment before looking where John was pointing. "There's Baskerville," he called. He turned and pointed in the other direction. I followed his finger and turned around. "That's Grimpen Village," John called. John turned back and stared intently at the map. "So, that must be… yeah, that's Dewer's Hollow," John called and gestured to a dark area of heavy woods. I gazed at it before pointing towards a sign. "What's that?" I said to Sherlock.

"What's that?" Sherlock repeated loudly.

"Hmmm?" John said. He raised the binoculars around his neck and looked where we were pointing. "Minefield? Technically, Baskerville's an army base, so I guess they've always been keen to keep people out," John called.

"Clearly," Sherlock called back. He smiled at me briefly before taking my hand and leading the way down. He reached the ground and I sat on the edge of a particularly high edge. "I'll catch you," Sherlock sighed.

"You better, git," I said back and pushed off. He caught me easily around the waist and set me on my feet. I kissed his cheek before walking back to the Range Rover. John turned to follow and I glanced a Sherlock expectantly.

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Several hours later, we were in Cross Keys Inn in Gripen Village. "Eh, sorry we couldn't do a double room for you," Gary, the manager, said as he handed me the keys.

"That's fine," I said and stuffed them in my pocket. I handed him some money for the drink I bought, and while his back was turned I ripped the top receipt from the spike on the counter. I carefully slid it in my jacket pocket and grinned at gary when he returned with my change. "I couldn't help but notice the skull and cross-bones on the map of the moor. what does that mean?" I said with a glowing smile.

"It's the Great Grimpen Minefield, or that's what they call it,"

"Oh,"

"It's not what you think. It's the Baskerville testing site, been going on for eighty-odd years. I'm not sure anyone really knows what's there anymore," Gary explained.

"Explosives?" I guessed. I peeked out of the corner of my eye to see Sherlock milling around and John watching him from a table. "Oh, not just explosives. Break into that place and- if you're lucky- you just get blown up, so they say… in case you're planning on a nice wee stroll," Gary said. "So, thank God for the Demon Hound."

"Have you seen it?" I said, my voice dripping with mock excitement.

"Me? No. Fletcher has. He runs the walks- the Monster walks for the tourists, you know? He's seen it," Gary said and gestured to a man outside.

"Well, thank you for your help! I'll be seeing you," I said and whisked away from the counter. I walked over to Sherlock and pulled him out of the Inn with me. "We need to talk to Fletcher. Play along," I hissed. He nodded at me and I released him. I grinned at him and ruffled my hair to make the curls more bouncy before lacing our fingers together and dragging him excitedly over to Fletcher. "Hey! You're the guy who does those really awesome monster walks, aren't you!" I said with a huge grin.

"Yeah," he said with a small smile.

"My boyfriend here says you haven't actually seen the monster," I said and gestured to Sherlock.

"I sure have," Fletcher replied and squinted slightly and Sherlock.

"See!" I said and turned to Sherlock. "He has!"

"I think it's all a hoax," Sherlock muttered and looked away angrily.

"Believe me, it's not," Fletcher insisted. "I saw it about a month ago up at Dewer's Hollow."

"Oh really?" Sherlock scoffed. I shot him a glare and turned back to Fletcher with an innocent grin. "Yeah, I have a picture," Fletcher said and held one out to us on his phone. I studied it for a moment before squinting at him. "That looks like a dark smudge, maybe you haven't seen it," I muttered and crossed my arms.

"Wait, wait, that's not all! People don't like going up there, you know. Gives them a… bad sort of feeling," Fletcher continued and fluttered his hands slightly. I smirked and rolled my eyes. "Well, of course, it's in the middle of the woods. Not exactly a cheery place," I said.

"I have more," Fletcher offered. He reached into his bag and pulled out a concrete cast of a massive dog print. I grinned at it and then at Sherlock. "Look, babe, it's got to be real. You see the size of that print," I said and pointed at it.

"I see it," Sherlock muttered defeatedly.

"Ta," I exclaimed and kissed his cheek. "Well, thank you, it's really been a nice chat. See you around." I waved to Fletcher and pulled Sherlock away.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

We walked back into the Inn, and I headed over to John. "We need to take the bags to the room, and then we can head to Baskerville," I said softly.

"Right," John said. I gestured to the door, and followed John outside. We unloaded the bags from the Range Rover and carried them inside. Sherlock took the keys from me and led the way to the room. When he opened the door, I groaned loudly. The room was impossibly small, and had one bed in the center of the left wall. I glared at it as I walked over to lay my bag on the floor. "I call the middle," I sighed. Sherlock stared at me for several moments before turning to look at John. "We should get to Baskerville," I said slowly. John and Sherlock nodded and set their bags down next to mine. I stopped to fix my hair in front of the mirror before following the boys out of the room.

We were soon approaching the gates of Baskerville. I studied the fencing and the patrols around the building and sighed softly. We pulled to a stop next to a guard and he asked for a pass. I watched Sherlock reach into his coat and hand him a card. "How did you get an I.D. for Baskerville?" I hissed.

"I didn't. It's my brother's. Access all areas. I um… acquired it ages ago. Just in case," Sherlock said nervously.

"Brilliant,"

"What's the matter?"

"We'll get caught, you dolt,"

"No, we won't- well, not just yet," Sherlock muttered as the gate slid up and the guard handed back the pass. "I reckon we've got about twenty minutes before they realise something's wrong."

"Mycroft's name literally opens doors," John said from the back.

"I've told you- he practically is the British government," he replied as we pulled through. I studied the layout as Sherlock drove around to an area where we could park. When the car stopped, I climbed down and walked around the front of the car to join John and Sherlock. We walked for less than a minute before we were stopped by a military jeep. A corporal climbed out and approached us. "What is it? Are we in trouble?" he asked nervously.

"Are we in trouble 'sir'," Sherlock corrected. I hid my smirk by looking away as if I were curious. "Yes, sir, sorry, sir," he stammered.

"You were expecting us?" Sherlock asked as we were stopped yet again.

"You I.D. showed up straight away, Mr. Holmes. Corporal Lyons, security. Is there something wrong, sir?" the corporal asked.

"Well, I hope not, corporal. I hope not," Sherlock said.

"It's just, we don't get expected here, sir. We just don't," Lyons said.

"Ever heard of a spot check?" John blurted. I glanced over at him. "Captain John Watson, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers," John continued. They saluted each other and I resisted the urge to swoon. I locked eyes with Sherlock and gave him a small grin. "Sir, Major Barrymore won't be pleased, sir. He'll want to see you both," Lyons said.

"I'm afraid we don't have time for that. We'll need the full tour right away. Carry on," John said. The corporal hesitated and I resisted the urge to sigh. "That's an order, Corporal," John continued sternly.

"Yes, sir," Lyons said. He spun around and led toward the door marked 'Automatic Security Door'. He swiped his card and waited for Sherlock to do the same. When the doors were unlocked, Sherlock checked his watch and we headed inside. We walked down a hallway and I pinched John's bum. "Oh my gosh," I hissed as he jumped.

"What?" John hissed back.

"Pulling rank, did you enjoy it?" I hissed back and glanced at Sherlock. He was smirking at us. "Maybe a bit," John replied. I pinched him again and he glared at me. We reached another door and repeated the card swiping process. We walked through and into a lift, and Lyons pressed the button marked '1'. We rode for several seconds before stepping out into a white tiled laboratory. I glanced around and studied all of the men and women in lab coats. We walked by large cages containing various animals. A monkey screeched and launched itself at Sherlock. "How many animals do you keep down here?" Sherlock asked as he studied the beast.

"Lots, sir," Lyons replied.

"Any ever escape?"

"They'd have to know how to use the lift, sir. We don't breed them that clever,"

"Unless they have help," Sherlock replied. We turned to watch a tall man with white hair approach us. "Ah, and you are?" he asked.

"Sorry, Doctor Frankland, I'm just showing these three around," Lyons replied.

"Ah, new faces, huh? Nice. Careful you don't get stuck here, though. I only came to fix the tap!" he replied. I sighed quietly while John chuckled politely. We watched him walk towards the lift before turning back to Lyons. "How far down does that lift go?" John asked.

"Quite a way, sir,"

"Mhmm, and what's down there?"

"Well, we have to keep the bins somewhere, sir. This way please," Lyons said before taking the lead once more.

"So, what exactly is it that you do here?" John asked.

"I thought you'd know, sir, this being an inspection,"

"Well, I'm not an expert am I?"

"Everything from stem cell research to trying to cure the common cold, sir," Lyons replied. I was only half listening, completely enthralled by the goings on around us. "But, mostly weaponry?" John continued.

"Of one sort or another, yes," Lyons replied as he swiped his card at the door. He waited for Sherlock to do the same. "Biological, chemical…"

"One war ends, another begins, sir. New enemies to fight. We have to be prepared," Lyons replied. He lead us through the door and Sherlock checked his watch again. We walked into another area where a woman was doing work on a monkey. "Doctor Stapleton," Lyons said.

"Yes? Who's this?" the woman replied as she glanced at us.

"Priority Ultra, ma'am. Orders from on high. An inspection,"

"Really?"

"We're to be accorded every courtesy, Doctor Stapleton. What's your role at Baskerville?" Sherlock said. Stapleton looked at him and snorted with laughter. I sighed quietly while John reminded her of the 'every courtesy' bit. "I'm not free to say. Official secrets," she replied.

"Oh, you most certainly are free… and I suggest you remain that way," Sherlock said with an ominous look.

"I have a lot of fingers in a lot of pies. I like to mix things up- genes, mostly; now and again actual fingers," Stapleton said after a moment. Sherlock reached into his pocket while he remarked on knowing her name from somewhere. He held up a pad of paper after scribbling something on it and her eyes grew wide. "Have you been talking to my daughter?" she scoffed.

"Why did Bluebell have to die, Doctor Stapleton?" Sherlock replied as he put the notebook away.

"The rabbit?" I scoffed.

"Disappeared from inside a locked hutch, which was always suggestive," Sherlock said to Stapleton.

"The rabbit?" I repeated.

"Clearly an inside job," Sherlock continued.

"Oh, you reckon?" Stapleton said.

"Why? Because it glowed in the dark?" Sherlock prompted.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. Who are you?" Stapleton said. Sherlock checked his watch again and we shared a significant glance. "Well, I think we've seen enough for now, Corporal. Thank you so much," Sherlock said to the corporal.

"That's it?" Lyons said, surprised.

"That's it," Sherlock confirmed. He grabbed my hand and lead the way out with John trailing behind us. "This is the way out, isn't it?" Sherlock called.

"Just a minute!" Stapleton called after us.

"Did we just break into a military base to investigate a rabbit?" I hissed at Sherlock as he swiped his card and waited for Lyons to catch up. We walked towards the lift as Sherlock's phone began to chime. I reached into his coat and held up the message from Mycroft

**What are you doing? M**

Sherlock and I giggled as we continued through the base and I stuck his phone in my pocket. "Twenty-three minutes, Mycroft is getting slow," I commented. We reached the lift and Sherlock swiped the card and once more waited for Lyons. The doors opened to reveal Doctor Frankland. "Hello…. again," he said. I narrowed my eyes at him and we stepped into the lift. We travelled one floor up, and the doors opened to reveal an angry bearded man. "Er, um, Major…" Lyons stammered.

"This is bloody outrageous, why wasn't I told?" Barrymore scoffed.

"Major Barrymore, is it?" John said as he stepped off the lift and extended his hand to shake. "Yes, well, good, very good. We're very impressed, aren't we Mr. Holmes?"

"Deeply; hugely," Sherlock said. I reached into my pocket for Sherlock's phone, since it chimed again, and read the message

**What's going on Sherlock? M **

I giggled and showed it to Sherlock. We made a hasty retreat, and my fingers were tightly clasped in Sherlock's. "The whole point of Baskerville was to eliminate this kind of bureaucratic nonsense…" Barrymore said as he trailed behind us.

"I'm sorry, Major," Sherlock said.

"Inspections?" he scoffed.

"New policy. Can't remain unmonitored forever. Goodness knows what you'd get up to," Sherlock said before turning to John and I and saying quietly, "Keep walking."

"Sir!" Lyons shouted as he stepped out of a side room. "I.D. unauthorized, sir." He slapped a button on the wall and alarms started to blare. I sucked in a deep breath and turned to him. "What?" Barrymore asked.

"I've just had the call," Lyons explained.

"Is that right?" he said before turning to us. "Who are you?" I looked behind him and saw Doctor Frankland approaching. "Look, there's obviously been some kind of mistake," John insisted. Barrymore held out his hand for Sherlock's I.D., which he handed over, and Barrymore inspected it. "Clearly not Mycroft Holmes," he commented.

"Computer error, Major. It'll have to go in the report," John said as he started writing in his notepad.

"What the hell's going on?" Barrymore shouted.

"It's all right, Major. I know exactly who they are," Frankland said as he stepped up beside us.

"You do?"

"Yeah. I'm getting a little slow on faces, but Mr. Holmes isn't someone I expected to show up in this place,"

"Ah, well…" Sherlock started.

"Good to see you again, Mycroft," Frankland said and stuck his hand out to shake. Sherlock smiled and shook his hand while I quietly let out the breath I had been holding. "I had the honor of meeting Mr. Holmes at the W.H.O conference in… Brussels, I think?" he continued.

"Vienna," Sherlock corrected.

"Vienna, that's it," Frankland agreed before turning to the Major. "This is Mr. Mycroft Holmes, Major. There's obviously been a mistake." Barrymore turned and nodded to Lyons, who turned the alarm off, and turned back to us. "On your head be it, Doctor Frankland," Barrymore said.

"I'll show them out, Corporal," Frankland said after a chuckle.

"Very well, sir," Lyons replied. Sherlock spun on his heel and practically dragged me outside. John and Doctor Frankland jogged after us.

When we were outside, Sherlock thanked Doctor Frankland who had caught up to us. John situated himself on my right and I linked our fingers together as well. "This is about Henry Knight, isn't it?" Doctor Frankland asked. We remained silent as we walked over to the Range Rover. "I thought so, I knew he wanted help, but I didn't think he would contact Sherlock Holmes!" he exclaimed after taking our silence as agreement. Sherlock and I grimaced. "Oh, don't worry. I know who you really are. I'm never off your website. Thought you'd be wearing the hat though," Frankland continued.

"That wasn't my hat," Sherlock muttered.

"I hardly recognise him without the hat," he said to John and I.

"It wasn't my hat," Sherlock insisted, sounding the 't's loudly. I let go of their fingers to hide my giggles. "I love the blog, too, Doctor Watson," Frankland said.

"Oh, cheers," John said with a grin. I rolled my eyes at him as Frankland mentioned a few of the cases he had read. "And you must be Jamie McConnell," Frankland said to me.

"Hello, yes," I said and gave a small wave.

"Some say you and Sherlock are a thing, is that true?" he said eagerly. I coughed loudly and glanced at Sherlock. "What?" I said loudly, my distress apparent.

"Yeah, all over those fan sites," Frankland said. I crossed my arms and drummed my fingers on my biceps. "It isn't true," I muttered and looked away. Sherlock grinned at my obvious distress and John had tears running down his face from laughter. "You know Henry Knight?" Sherlock asked, finally changing the subject.

"Listen, I can't really talk now," Doctor Frankland said as he looked back at Major Barrymore, who was watching us. He reached into his coat pocket and handed Sherlock a card and instructed him to call if he could help with Henry. I continued walking to the Range Rover after that to sulk in the front seat. I shrugged my coat off and climbed up into the seat. I strapped myself in then pull my knees up to hug them so I could rest my chin on them and watch Sherlock and John. I sighed and climbed across into the drivers seat so I could talk to them when they approached. "So?" John said.

"So?" Sherlock repeated.

"Was that all about the rabbit?" John asked. Sherlock smiled and pulled his coat tighter around him. He flipped the collar up, and John rolled his eyes at him. "Oh, please, can we not do this this time?" John sighed.

"Do what?" Sherlock scoffed.

"You being all mysterious with your cheekbones and turning your coat collar up so you look cool," John said. Sherlock stopped and popped open his mouth, but no words tumbled out. "... I don't do that," he said finally. He gestured for me to move and I glared at him. "Yeah, you do," I commented as I climbed across. John got in the back and we made our way out of Baskerville.

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We arrived at Henry Knight's house and I accepted the cup of coffee he offered happily. I perched like a vulture at the island and sipped my coffee quietly. Sherlock sat beside me in a much more proper position. John was standing behind the island beside Henry. "It's- it's a couple of words. It's what I keep seeing. 'Liberty'," Henry said.

"Liberty," John repeated as he wrote in his notebook.

"'Liberty' and... 'in'. It's just that," Henry said. He picked up the bottle of milk and asked if we were finished. John affirmed it, so Henry put the milk away. "What now, then?" Henry asked.

"Sherlock's got a plan," I said.

"Yes," Sherlock replied.

"Right,"

"We take you back out onto the moor…"

"Okay," Henry said nervously.

"..and see if anything attacks you,"

"What?" John exclaimed.

"That should bring things to a head," Sherlock said.

"At night? You want me to go out there at night?"

"Mmmm,"

"That's your plan?" John scoffed. "Brilliant."

"Got any better ideas?"

"That's not a plan," I muttered.

"Listen, if there is a monster out there, there's only one thing to do. Find out where it lives," Sherlock said. I rolled my eyes at him and finished my coffee. Henry took my cup and set it in the sink. I leaned my elbows on the counter and swung my feet slightly as I waited for the boys to finish. When they did, we all headed outside and climbed into the Land Rover.

It was completely dark as we made our way to Dewer's Hollow. I was holding hands with John and he had the flashlight. Sherlock and Henry were a few paces ahead. John pressed a quick kiss to my temple before letting my hand go. "I'll light your way," he said. I nodded at him and tried to catch up to Sherlock. When I did, I latched onto his fingers and didn't notice John had fallen behind. "We met a friend of yours, Henry," I said.

"What?"

"Doctor Frankland," I prompted.

"Oh, right, Bob, yeah,"

"Seems pretty concerned about you,"

"He's a worrier, bless him. He's been very kind to me since I came back,"

"He knew your father," Sherlock cut in.

"Yeah,"

"But he works at Baskerville. Didn't your dad have a problem with that?"

"Well, mates are mates, aren't they? I mean, look at you three,"

"What about us?" I scoffed.

"Well, John seems like a pretty straightforward bloke, and you two…" he trailed off before changing the subject. "They agreed never to talk about work, Uncle Bob and my dad." He stopped and turned to the left to look ahead. Sherlock and I gazed where he was looking questioningly. "Dewer's Hollow," he said ominously. We continued forward and carefully made our way down the slippery slope into the Hollow. We reached the bottom and shined the flashlight around for a moment. There was giant pawprints sprinkled all over. I swallowed and resisted the urge to scream when a howl rang out. Sherlock shined the light up at the rim, and I sucked in a deep breath. It was right there. Sherlock followed it with the light until it disappeared. Sherlock turned to me and stared at me. "Did-did you see it too?" I whispered. He blinked at me and Henry hurried down to us. Sherlock shook his head and turned to push Henry out of the way as he made his way back up. I scrambled after him.

We met up with John at the top of the hollow and he asked if we heard the howling. "We saw it. We saw it," Henry insisted as Sherlock shoved passed John. I grabbed John's hand in a vice as we followed him. "No, I didn't see anything," Sherlock said.

"What? What are you talking about?" I screeched.

"I didn't. See. Anything," Sherlock repeated. I sucked in a deep breath and John turned to grab my cheeks in his warm hands. I whimpered quietly. "What did you see, Jamie?" he whispered.

"The-the hound. Big. Black fur. Glowing red eyes. It was right there, John. We all saw it," I stammered quietly. John blinked and released me. He grabbed my hand again and we hurried after Sherlock and Henry.

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We all made it back to the Inn, and I was sitting on the floor with my back to the fire while John and Sherlock occupied the chairs. "Well, he is in a pretty bad way. He's manic, convinced there's some super-dog roaming the moors," John said. Sherlock glanced at John for a moment before shifting his gaze back to the fire over my shoulder. John continued to speak about the mutant dog and a series of letters from Morse code he saw on the moor. He quieted down when he noticed Sherlock's distress. "Henry's right," Sherlock finally said in a quaking voice.

"What?" John said.

"I saw it too,"

"What?" I said.

"I saw it," Sherlock said.

"Just...just a minute. You saw what?" John asked.

"A hound, out there in the hollow. A gigantic hound," he replied through gritted teeth. Sherlock looked away and I stood from my place on the floor. I cautiously approached him, like he was a cornered animal, and laid a hand on his cheek. His eyes were watering. "Um, look, Sherlock. Let's just stick to the facts. We have to be rational about this," John said as he watched us.

"Did you see it?" Sherlock whispered to me. I nodded slowly and settled on the floor at his feet. "Let's just stick to what we know," John continued.

"Once you've ruled out the impossible- however improbable- must be true," Sherlock said to John in a quiet voice.

"What does that mean?" John asked slowly. Sherlock turned back to me and I could see the terror in his blue grey eyes. He glanced down at his hand and laughed softly. "Look, I am afraid, Jamie. Afraid," he scoffed.

"Sherlock?" I said quietly. He didn't meet my gaze and continued to speak rapidly to John, drawing the attention of the other patrons. I shot them all glares until they looked away. Sherlock began to deduce a mother and son, and I fought to capture his gaze again. "Look at me," I hissed. Sherlock turned back to me, breathing deeply from his rapid fire deductions. "And why would you listen to me? I'm just your friend," John scoffed.

"I don't have friends," Sherlock said nastily.

"Naah. Wonder why?" John replied and stood to walk away.

"Sherlock Holmes," I said slowly. He met my gaze and I could see the anger and terror in his eyes. "Come with me," I sighed and stood. I grabbed his fingers and tugged him to our room. I slammed the door behind us and pushed him to the bed. "Sit," I ordered. "You need to calm down. We love you, and you're behaving terribly. That was entirely unnecessary to say to either of us."

"I am fine," he muttered darkly as he sat on the edge of the bed. I stood in front of him and he refused to meet my gaze. "You are not. You're afraid, and your brain is on overdrive. You're lashing out for the sake of lashing out, and it's sort of scary," I said with my arms crossed. He said nothing and continued to glare at the floor. "I saw it, too. Don't forget that. You said it yourself, once you've ruled everything else out, whatever's left must be true. So, stop," I continued.

"Stop what?" Sherlock muttered and looked up at me.

"Refusing to accept it," I said softly. He sucked in a series of quick breaths and I sighed. I uncrossed my hands and grabbed his cheeks with my fingertips pressed at his jawline. He struggled to not meet my gaze and he was still breathing deeply, on the verge of a panic attack. I sighed quietly, unsure of what to do. I finally made up my mind and slowly leaned forward to press my lips to his. He fluttered his arms to the side of me, unsure of himself. I closed my eyes as he grabbed my hips and pulled me closer. It was a chaste kiss, but it quickly turned when I angled my head slightly to the right. I smiled against his lips when he began to return the kiss. His lips were soft and warm, and his thumbs were pressed slightly into my hipbones. I moved closer as he parted his lips slightly, and I slowly moved my hands to tangle them in his dark curls. I broke away to suck in some air before pushing my lips back to his. He grunted when I roughly pushed him back on the bed and straddled his hips. I broke away to look at his face. His face was completely blank as he stared up at me. "Better?" I whispered. He nodded slightly and eagerly pressed his lips back to mine. I smirked and quickly returned the kiss. His roamed up my spine, his fingertips pressing gently over the bumps as I kissed his jaw slowly. I leaned back with my arms braced on either side of his head and peered into his eyes. "Can we not tell John?" I asked softly. He nodded in response, words no longer forming in his mind, and I grinned at him. "My, my, did I blow Mr. Sherlock Holmes's mind?" I said with a small laugh. He stared at me in response and smiled slowly as I leaned back to him.

We kissed for an hour before I insisted on him texting John about Doctor Louise Mortimer, who was in the pub downstairs. I had spotted her as I pulled Sherlock to our room. Sherlock finally did and I took the opportunity to lock myself in the bathroom. I took a shower, grinning the whole time, and braided my hair after I was finished. When I stepped out of the bathroom, Sherlock was already curled up under the covers on the far side of the bed. I crawled across the bed to him and smiled when he rolled over to face me. "Why did you kiss me?" he asked quietly.

"You were on a mental overload, and you needed something to bring you back," I replied. He stared at me for a few moments before nodding and closing his eyes. "I thought you didn't sleep on cases," I whispered.

"Just this once. I'm knackered," he replied. I snorted in response and closed my eyes as well. I laid there in the silence for ten minutes before the door opened. I looked over my shoulder to see John's outline from the light in the hall. He smiled at me and pulled off his jumper to reveal a white thick-strapped tank top. He walked into the bathroom to change his pants, and then returned to occupy the last third of the bed. "Cozy," I whispered. John snorted behind me and propped his hand behind his head. "Did you talk to the Doctor?" I asked quietly. Sherlock's even breath told me he was asleep. I slowly brushed his curls off of his forehead as I waited for John's reply. "Yes, she's agreed to breakfast with me tomorrow. Did you managed okay with him?" John replied.

"Yeah, I had to drag him back here, but he's better now," I replied. Sherlock mumbled something in his sleep and scooted closer to me. John giggled behind me and watched us. Sherlock had wrapped his arm around my waist and had his face pressed into my chest. I curled my right arm around his back and the other was bent above my head. "He sure likes to cuddle," John sighed.

"Yes, I know. That's why I took the middle," I replied with a roll of my eyes. John sniggered behind me and rolled onto his left side. I looked down as Sherlock snuggled his face into me. "Well, this is nice," I whispered.

"Right," John replied quietly. I yawned loudly and tangled my fingers into Sherlock's curls. He smiled in his sleep and I listened to John's breath grow deep and even. Sleep eluded me, but it was nice to just lay here with them. John eventually rolled onto his stomach with his arms underneath his pillow. It took me another hour to finally fall asleep, but when I did dreams haunted me.

I dreamed of my time with Ethan. But instead of Ethan, it was Jim. He was taunting me and torturing me, teasing me about our one night stand. I was still afraid of the truth, that I had been in cahoots with a monster, a consultant criminal. He had such a kind face and easygoing smile. He was a proper gentleman, and I didn't even think to question his motives. He could have killed me right then, but he didn't. He let me live just to have me tortured later. I could feel the chains holding my arms up above my head. When the first blade plunged into my navel I screamed.

"Jamie!" John shouted as I struggled to come back to the real world. Sherlock and John were looming above me as I tried to catch my breath. I stared at them with a horrified face. "I'm okay," I whispered.

"What did you dream?" Sherlock said.

"It-it was nothing," I mumbled and rolled over onto my stomach. John slowly settled back down on the bed, but Sherlock remained where he was. "Tell me," Sherlock ordered. I mumbled into the pillow and sighed. Sherlock sighed too and tugged on my right shoulder. "Jamie, please?" Sherlock asked. I looked up at him and sighed. "I dreamed that I was back in that room, but instead of Ethan it was Jim," I breathed. Sherlock closed his eyes and nodded before settling back down beside me. He laid with his face close to mine and stared into my eyes. I tangled our fingers together between us and smiled slightly.


	16. Chapter 16

**Hi everyone! Here's some more chapters in case anybody was actually interested. Reviews are always nice, and they let me know if people are actually enjoying this or not. Anyways, enjoy :) **

Chapter 16

We fell asleep rather quickly after my nightmare was gone, and I woke up a few hours later. They were both still asleep. I was lying on my left side and Sherlock had his face pressed to my chest once more. John had rolled over to press his chest against my back and he had his arm around me. I carefully followed the line of his arm and smiled. He had his hand resting on the back of Sherlock's neck. My hand was on Sherlock's bony hip and his arm was draped over my waist. I grinned and nuzzled my face into Sherlock's hair. It was still early in the morning, but I didn't feel like sleeping anymore. Sherlock had all of the blankets wrapped around him like a cocoon, and John looked angry in his sleep. I sniggered quietly and peered around the room.

Early morning light shined through the window, and I could see that it had rained in the wee hours of the morning. I looked at our line of suitcases and smiled slightly. They were the perfect representation of us. John's suitcase was neatly closed, Sherlock's was open but orderly, and mine looked like it puked clothing all over the place. John's breathing changed, and I listened to him wake up. "Good morning," I whispered. He grunted quietly and rolled over so his back was pressed against mine. "You have to get up and go meet that Doctor," I prompted. He sighed quietly and seemed to be mentally encouraging himself to get out of bed. When he finally did, he stumbled over to his suitcase and then walked into the bathroom with a stack of clothes while rubbing his eyes. I smiled and tried to wake Sherlock up. I wound up tickling his ribs for several minutes before he yawned and opened his eyes. "Good morning, Mr. Holmes," I said softly with a small smirk.

"Hello," he sighed and ruffled his hair. It stuck out at funny angles and I giggled at him. "Your hair's funny," I said when he looked at me with a perplexed expression.

"So is yours," he muttered. I blinked at him and reached up to feel my hair. I had a messy bun and my bangs were blown wildly on my forehead. I smirked and rolled onto my stomach. Sherlock resed his cheek on my shoulder blade and sighed. I smiled and nuzzled my face into the pillow. "I'm going to Henry Knight's," Sherlock said after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

"Shower?"

"Do I smell bad?"

"Hmmm… no," I sighed after a moment's deliberation.

"Waste of time, then," he replied. He sat up and climbed off the bed to walk to his suitcase. He picked out an outfit and laid it out on the bed over my feet. He glanced at me before nervously ruffling his hair. "I'm not looking," I muttered with my eyes closed.

"Okay," he sighed. I listened to the rustle of fabric for several moments before he walked back over to sit on the edge of the bed. I opened one eye to look at him. He was watching me with a small smile. "Hello," I sighed and reached out for his fingers. His smile widened a bit when I laced them together. "What do you need me to do?" I sighed.

"Wait for John to be finished with Doctor Louise Mortimer, and then spend time with him. Do whatever you do when I'm not around," he said, attempting casual.

"You're always around," I mumbled. He heaved a sigh and bent to press a kiss to my temple. "Goodbye, Jamie," he said before standing and leaving the room. I sighed quietly and pulled the sheets up above my head. I was thankful that I didn't have any other terrifying dreams, mostly due to John and Sherlock being there. John emerged from the bathroom toweling his hair off and he glanced around. "Where's Sherlock?" he asked.

"He went to Henry Knight's," I sighed. John hummed and sat on the edge of the bed to put his shoes on. I rolled over onto my back and crossed my arms behind my head. "Going to meet the Doctor?" I asked with a smirk.

"Mhmm,"

"Tell me all about it," I said in a singsong voice. He huffed and stood to walk around the edge of the bed towards me. "You okay?" he asked quietly.

"I'm better," I said with a yawn.

"No more dreams?"

"No,"

"Right," he said with a nod. I stretched my arms out to him and sat up slightly, the universal symbol for hugging. He smiled and embraced me. "Be careful," I whispered.

"Always," he replied before releasing me and walking to the door. I waved to him as he turned to look back at me, and he flashed a smile before shutting the door. I sighed and relaxed on the bed for a few moments before standing and heading to the shower. I bolted the door to the room and went to turn the water on. I looked at myself in the mirror and grinned. My hair was a complete mess. I showered quickly and walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. I picked out a ruffled skirt and black tights. I pulled them on and topped it off with a bright red button up. My coat was black, which offset the color of my shirt nicely. I pulled on a pair of flats and went to fix my hair. It was getting uncomfortably long, and I decided to have it cut when I got back to London, maybe. I let it hang loose and pushed my bangs back out of my face. I smiled at myself before grabbing my phone off the edge of the sink and heading out of the room.

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Several hours later, John and I were wandering through Grimpen Village. "It's quite nice to be out of the city," I sighed as I studied the road ahead.

"I agree. I do miss London though," he said with a rueful smile.

"Agreed. It's quiet here, which is nice, but I'm used to loud. I miss the war, John," I said with a small smile.

"Me too," he whispered. I knew he was talking about the real battlefield, but I was referring to the war you see when walking with Sherlock Holmes. I grinned at him and pulled my coat tighter around me. "I will tease you if you turn out your collar," he warned with a roll of his eyes. I looked at him smugly and did just that. He sighed and rolled his eyes at me. "It's cold," I muttered. He hummed at me and continued on. We walked to the church graveyard and I immediately gravitated to the war memorial. I sat on the steps with my hands deep in my pockets and blew my bangs out of my face. John eased himself down beside me and pulled out his notebook. I watched him flip through it for a few minutes, before looking up at the sound of a creaking gate. Sherlock was walking through the kissing gate, and he immediately approached us. An awkward bubble engulfed us as he and John adopted uncomfortable expressions. "Did you, ever, get anywhere with that Morse code?" Sherlock asked after a moment of silence.

"No," John replied as he stood and stepped down. He started to walk away and I trailed silently after him. "U, M, Q, R, A, wasn't it?" Sherlock prompted. John continued on in silence and Sherlock tried it as a word. "Nothing," John replied. Sherlock tried it out again and I sighed. "Look, forget it. It's … I thought I was on to something. I wasn't," John said carefully.

"Sure?"

"Yeah,"

"How about Louise Mortimer? Did you get anywhere with her?"

"No,"

"Too bad. Did you get any information?" Sherlock asked. I grinned while John shot a small smile over his shoulder. "You being funny now?" John asked.

"Thought it might break the ice a bit,"

"Funny doesn't suit you. I'd stick to ice," John muttered and continued walking. Sherlock and I stopped to stare at him. I glanced at Sherlock's pained face and frowned. "John…" Sherlock called.

"It's fine," John said.

"No, wait. What happened last night … something happened to me; something I've not really experienced before," Sherlock said and tried to catch up. I followed more slowly, but we were all soon standing in a triangle. "Yes, you said: fear. Sherlock Holmes got scared. You said," John pointed out.

"No-no-no, it was more than that, John. It was doubt. I felt doubt. I've always been able to trust my senses, the evidence of my own eyes, until last night," Sherlock continued.

"You can't actually believe you saw some kind of monster,"

"No, I can't believe that," Sherlock started but paused to bite his lip. "But I did see it, so the question is: how? How?"

"Yes. Yeah, right, good. So you've got something to go on then? Good luck with that," John said. He turned to walk away and I quickly caught up to him. Sherlock called after us, and we both turned to look at him. "Listen, what I said before. I meant it," Sherlock said. "I don't have friends." He paused to bite his lip once more and his eyes darted between us. "I just have you two," he finished. John and I looked at eachother and I smiled. John nodded his head and turned to continued to walk. "Right," John said as he continued forward. Sherlock stared at his feet before looking back up with a knowing glint in his eyes. He began to chase after John and I once again followed them. "John? John!" Sherlock shouted. "You are amazing! You are fantastic!" I giggled as I followed them and sped up to keep them in my sight. "Yes, all right. You don't have to overdo it!" John said back.

"You've never been the most luminous of people, but as a conductor of light, you and Jamie are unbeatable," Sherlock said as he started walking backward in front of John.

"Cheers… what?" John said. Sherlock turned around to walk beside him as I caught up and took John's other side. Sherlock pulled out his notebook and began to write in it. "Some people who aren't geniuses have this amazing ability to stimulate it in others," Sherlock said.

"Hang on- you were saying 'sorry' a minute ago. Don't spoil it. Go on: what have I done that's so bloody stimulating?" John said as we reached the pub. Sherlock turned and held up his notepad with the word 'HOUND' written on it. "Yeah?" I said. He pulled the notebook back and wrote on it a bit more before showing it again. Now it read 'H.O.U.N.D.' "You think it's an acronym?" I asked.

"Absolutely no idea but…" he trailed off as he put his notebook away and turned into the pub. Detective Inspector Lestrade was standing inside the pub, heavily suntanned and wearing a light grey ensemble. I smirked at the outraged look on Sherlock's face. Sherlock stormed into the pub and shouted, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Well, nice to see you, too! I'm on a holiday, would you believe?" Lestrade said.

"No, I wouldn't," Sherlock muttered. Lestrade took off his sunglasses as John and I approached. "Hello, Jamie, John," he said with a grin.

"Greg!" John said with an equal grin. I grinned at Greg and gave a two-fingered salute. "I heard you were in the area. What are you up to? You after this Hound of Hell like on the telly?" Greg said.

"I'm waiting for an explanation, Inspector. Why are you here?" Sherlock said stiffly.

"I've told you, I'm on a holiday,"

"You're brown as a nut. You're clearly just back from your 'holiday'," Sherlock retorted.

"Yeah, well I fancied another one," Greg said, attempting to be nonchalant.

"This is Mycroft isn't it?" I blurted out.

"No, look…,"

"It is Mycroft! One mention of Baskerville and he sends our handler down here to watch over us like naughty children," I said angrily. John laid a hand on my shoulder but I shrugged it off. "Look, I'm not your handler…. and I don't do just what he tells me," Greg said when he turned back from picking up his pint from the bar.

"Actually, you could be just the man we want," John said.

"Why?" I muttered with a glare.

"Well, Jamie and I have not been idle. I think we might have found something," John said as he rummaged in his trouser pocket. He produced a wad of paper that I had given him and handed it to Sherlock. "Here, didn't know it was relevant; starting to look like it might be. That is an awful lot of meat for a vegetarian restaurant."

"Excellent," Sherlock said as he looked at the sales invoices from Undershaw Meat Supplies.

"Nice scary inspector from Scotland Yard who could put in a few calls might come in very handy," John said to Greg before slapping his hand on the bell and calling "Shop!"

"Well, boys, while you bully the gentlemen, I'm going to go exploring. Have fun," I said with a wave. I grabbed John cheeks and kissed his temple and turned to Sherlock. He made a point to look away when I pressed a kiss to his cheek. Greg watched with a grin as I once again gave a two-fingered salute and walked out of the pub.

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I trudged along the lane with my hands shoved deep in my pockets as I searched for a place to perch. I decided to head back to the rocky outcropping and pointed myself in that direction. It didn't take me an obscenely long amount of time before I was sitting on top of the highest peak staring at the woods. I pulled out my phone and sent a text to Mycroft

**Mycroft Holmes you are a mother goose. **

I put my phone down beside me and waited for his reply. It came seconds later.

**Ms. McConnell, I haven't a clue as to what you are speaking of. M**

I giggled quietly and settled down for this conversation.

**Did you send Lestrade down here? **

**No. M **

**Lies. **

**Very well. M **

**Ha, I win. Did you do the covert pickup, take to a separate location, and offer money in return for information to my brother yet? **

**No. Should I? M **

**Your choice, Mycroft. Your money. **

He didn't reply after that and I flipped my bangs out of my face before texting Patrick.

**Be vigilant. Government black car with a professional looking individual will be after you soon. Don't fret. It's just Mycroft Holmes. He'll bully you for a few minutes, offer you obscene amounts of money, which you should take, in return for information on our dear Shezza. **

**Okay. Will he bust my kneecaps or put a bag over my head? **

**If you go peacefully, no. **

I snorted at his constant worry and laid on my back with my arms crossed above my head. It was an absolutely gorgeous day, and the clouds were puffy and white. I took a deep breath and grinned. My phone chimed once more and I held it up in front of my face

**Where are you? SH **

**Figure it out. **

**Clue? SH**

**Height. **

I smirked and switched off my phone. I laid it on my chest and crossed my arms once again to wait. I watched the clouds drift lazily across the sky for nearly twenty minutes before I heard the Range Rover arrive. "Jamie!" John called.

"Yes, dear?" I shouted back with a widening smirk.

"Come down. We need to get on to Baskerville," John said. I sighed audibly and slowly stood up. I tucked my phone in my coat pocket before brushing my skirt off and slowly making my way down. Sherlock was waiting at the last bit and I didn't hesitate to jump. He caught me easily and set me on my feet. "Thank you, Mr. Holmes," I said with a grin. He nodded at me and we walked over to the Range Rover. John took the front seat smugly and I grumbled as I climbed in the back.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

After an unnecessarily long amount of time, we had finally made it into Baskerville. Sherlock had instructed John to find the hound while we went to speak to Major Barrymore. We were sitting in his office while he started at us like a pompous arse. I fought with the urge to punch him in the face, and sat there with my arms crossed. My hands were balled into fists and my nails bit into my palms. "Oh, you know I'd love to. I'd love to give you unlimited access to this place. Why not?" he said sarcastically.

"It's a simple enough request, Major," I said after I took a deep calming breath.

"I've never heard of anything so bizarre,"

"You're to give us twenty-four hours, It's what we've …. negotiated," Sherlock said.

"Not a second more. I may have to comply with this order, but I certainly don't like it," Barrymore grumbled. Sherlock stood and gestured for me to leave first. I huffed a sigh and walked to the door. "I don't know what you expect to find here anyways," Barrymore said from his computer.

"Perhaps the truth," Sherlock replied.

"About what? Oh, I see. The big coats should have told me," Barrymore said. Sherlock and I frowned at each other and I glanced at my coat. "You're one of the conspiracy lot aren't you?" he continued. Sherlock and I rolled our eyes while he grinned. "Well, then, go ahead. Seek them out: the monsters, the death rays, the aliens," he said.

"Have you got any of those?" I said, feining nonchalance. Barrymore rolled his eyes while Sherlock smirked at me. "Just wondering," I said in a singsong voice.

"A couple. Crash landed here in the sixties. We call them Abbott and Costello," he said secretively. He straightened up and turned back to his computer while I smirked. "Good luck, Mr. Holmes, Ms. McConnell," he said. Sherlock gestured once more for us to leave, and I took the opportunity. He laced our fingers together in the hallway and dragged me to a security station. "What are we doing?" I hissed as he closed the door behind me and placed a hand in the small of my back to guide me to the chairs. He gestured for me to sit in one and he took the other. "Might as well be cozy, we have a while to wait," Sherlock said as he propped his feet up on the edge of the desk. I crossed my arms behind my head and set my feet in his lap. He smirked at me and drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. "So," I said, drawing out the 'o'.

"Yes?" he said with a glance at me.

"What are we doing?" I sighed.

"I'm conducting an experiment. I have a theory. We're experimenting on John. He'll be in the large laboratory soon, so we can watch him from her," he explained and gestured to the monitors.

"On your best friend?" I sighed.

"Yes, I've experimented on you both loads of times," he said with a shrug.

"What?" I screeched.

"Don't worry. Nothing harmful," he said with a noncommittal gesture. I sighed and rolled my eyes. I looked around the room for a moment before letting my eyes fall closed. I fell into the half-awake, half-asleep zone and my brain decided to dredge up childhood memories.

It was a memory of when I was twelve and Patrick was sixteen. Our mother had taken us over to our neighbor's house for a dinner party. They had a pool and Patrick and I always spent the entire time in the pool. Our mother always had a struggle to get us out of the water. We would wind up attempting to drown each other, which mum always panicked about. I smiled at the memory and Sherlock flicked my leg. "Oi!" I said and opened my eyes to glare at him. He looked away nonchalantly. "It's time to begin," Sherlock said.

"Well, get on with it, then," I sighed. He lifted my feet and adjusted himself underneath me so he could reach the microphone and replaced my feet. "Just be quiet," he said and pulled out his cell phone. I rolled my eyes and slowly swiveled back-and-forth as he scared his best friend. Several minutes later he looked at me. "We should go and get him," Sherlock suggested. I smirked and nodded before dropping my feet to the floor and standing. I grabbed his hand and pulled him from the room.

We walked into the big lab while Sherlock continued to speak to John on the phone. I walked up to the cage he was in and lifted the sheet. "Are you alright?" I asked with genuine concern. He started at me with wide eyes and I dropped down to place a hand on his shoulder. "John?" I asked carefully.

"Jesus Christ…." he whispered. He grabbed the bars and pulled himself to his feet while simultaneously stuffing his phone in his pocket. I stepped back and he peered around the room. "Did… did… did you see it? You must have!" he said with a shaking voice.

"John, come here," I sighed and pulled his shoulders. He slowly stepped towards me and I curled my arms around him while he peered around from over my shoulder. "It's all right," I whispered.

"It's not okay! I was wrong! I saw it!" he shouted. I smirked and rubbed my right hand up and down his spine. "Well, let's not jump to conclusions," Sherlock said with a shrug.

"What?"

"What did you see?" Sherlock continued.

"I told you: I saw the hound,"

"Huge, red eyes?"

"Yes,"

"Glowing?"

"Yeah,"

"No,"

"What?"

"I made up the bit about glowing. You saw what you expected to see because I told you. You have been drugged. We have all been drugged," Sherlock explained.

"Drugged?"

"Can you walk?" I asked.

"'Course I can walk," he said in a shaky voice. I grinned and pulled away. I looped an arm around his waist and pulled his left arm around my shoulders. "Just in case," I said in a singsong voice. Sherlock smirked at me and lead the way.

We walked into Doctor Stapleton's lab, and she looked up at us. "Oh, back again? What's on your mind this time?" Stapleton said.

"Murder," I suggested.

"Refined, cold-blooded murder," Sherlock elaborated. He reached for the light switch and flipped it off. The rabbit Stapleton was examining was glowing green. I smiled and Sherlock turned the light back on. "Will you tell little Kirsty what happened to Bluebell, or shall I?" Sherlock said with an unpleasant smile.

"Okay. What do you want?" Stapleton sighed.

"Can I borrow your microscope?" Sherlock asked.

"And some coffee?" I said pleadingly. Stapleton nodded and went to fetch the coffee. I lead John over to a stool and forced him to sit. I grabbed his cheeks and peered into his eyes. "Your pupils are dilated. How do you feel?" I said and pressed my lips to his forehead to test his temperature. It was normal so I leaned back to look at him. "Hmm?" I prompted.

"I'm okay," John said after a moment.

"Really? You look a bit peaky," I muttered. He rolled his eyes at me and grabbed my wrists to pull my hands away. I smiled slightly at him and went to sit on the counter next to the microscope. Sherlock glared at me and placed a notepad across my thighs and a stack of multicolored pens. "You strive to be in my way constantly," he muttered as he began to work.

"Always, sweetie," I said with a grin. Stapleton returned carrying a paper cup and I pointed a finger at John. "Him," I said. She nodded and handed the cup to John. He took it with a grateful grin and sipped it. I rested my left hand back behind me and leaned on it. Sherlock would periodically peer into the microscope and scribble something on the notepad, or lean on the counter in front of the microscope with his hands up in the prayer position. John and Stapleton were talking quietly and I was dozing off. It tickled slightly whenever Sherlock would lean over to scribble something on the notepad, and I smiled. I was startled awake when Sherlock snatched a slide from under the microscope and hurtled it at the wall. "It's not there!" he shouted, completely livid. I scattered the pens and paper across the floor as I launched myself from the counter to approach him. "Nothing there! Doesn't make any sense!" he shouted. I grabbed his shoulders and spun him to face me. "Hello," I said with a brief smile before I grabbed his cheeks and held him. "Calm down. You're scaring the locals," I said and nodded my head at John and Stapleton.

"What's she doing?" Stapleton asked, not even remotely discreet.

"They have a special…. bond. She can calm him down when nobody else can. It's like magic," John replied. I smirked and Sherlock fumed. "What were you looking for?" I asked slowly.

"A drug of course. There has to be a drug- a hallucinogenic or deliriant of some kind. There's no trace of anything in the sugar," he said in a clipped tone.

"Sugar?" John asked from somewhere behind us.

"The sugar, yes. It's a simple process of elimination. I saw the hound- saw it as my imagination expected me to see it: a genetically engineered monster. But I knew I couldn't believe the evidence of my own eyes, so there were seven possible reasons for it, the most possible being narcotics. Henry Knight- he saw it, too. But you didn't, John. You didn't see it. Now, we have eaten and drunk exactly the same things since we got to Grimpen apart from one thing: you don't take sugar in your coffee," Sherlock said rapidly with his eyes locked on John.

"I see. So…" John said.

"I took it from Henry's kitchen. His sugar… It's perfectly all right," Sherlock said as he stepped out of my grasp to pace.

"Maybe it's not a drug," I suggested as I moved to pick up the scattered pens and paper.

"No, it has to be a drug," he replied before sitting on the stool and burying his face in his hands. "But, how did it get in our systems. How?" I stacked the papers and pens next to the microscope and stepped up to Sherlock. He didn't glance at me as I placed a hand on his right shoulder. "There has to be something…." he muttered and opened his eyes. He turned his head repeatedly like he was watching something fly around the room. "Something…. something," he muttered. "something buried deep." He took a sharp breath through his nose and pointed at John and Stapleton. "Get out," he ordered.

"What?" Stapleton said.

"Get out. I need to go to my mind palace," Sherlock explained. John sagged in his seat a bit before standing and placing a hand on Stapleton's arm. "Your what? Why does she get to stay?" Stapleton continued. Sherlock turned away from them and locked eyes with me. "His what?" Stapleton asked John.

"Oh, his mind palace. It's a memory technique- a sort of mental map. You plot a map with a location- it doesn't have to be a real place- and then you deposit memories there. Theoretically, you can never forget anything; all you have to do is find your way back to it," John explained as he guided her out of the lab.

"So this imaginary location could be anything- a house or a street…" Stapleton said.

"Yeah,"

"But, he said 'palace'. He said it was a palace,"

"Yeah, well, he would. Wouldn't he?"

"And what about Jamie?"

"I have no clue," John replied and lead her from the room. I smirked at their retreating forms and returned my gaze to Sherlock. He was waving his hands around and watching thoughts race passed. I watched him with utter fascination, and slowly lifted myself up to sit on the counter across from him. He wrinkled his eyebrows and flicked things away. He must have figured it out because his eyes popped open and he gazed at me intensely. "Well?" I prompted quietly.

"Liberty, Indiana," he replied. I nodded slowly and he stood from his stool. He walked slowly towards me and stopped inches from my knees. "We need to get to Major Barrymore's office," Sherlock said and turned to leave.

"Oi! Hold it, " I called and reached for his arm. I dragged him back and locked my legs around his waist. "What?" he sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Thank you. For…. not saying anything to John," I said and chewed my lip.

"Saying anything? About what?" he said.

"For a genius, you really are an idiot. About the kisses," I sighed and rolled my eyes.

"Oh," he said carefully, his eyes widening a fraction. I gave him a small smile and released him. He peered at me carefully before leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to my lips before turning and walking out. I grinned stupidly and my cheeks warmed as I pushed off the counter and followed.

We stepped out into the hall and John squinted at me. "Why are you red?" he hissed as we trailed after Stapleton and Sherlock.

"Am I?" I said and patted my cheeks. He nodded at me slowly and I fought down a grin. "I don't know," I said and looked away. John sighed and we stepped into the office. I made my way over to one of the chairs and sat down, spinning slightly. I pulled out my phone and checked it. I had a text from Patrick

**That Mycroft fellow is quite… interesting. I didn't take the money. **

I groaned loudly and typed a reply

**You dolt! Who wouldn't? I didn't get that offer. Never left Sherlock's side, and now Mycroft won't give it to me. **

**I'm sorry. Make it up to you? **

**Help me break into Mycroft's office when Shezza get's bored. He has amazing brandy. **

**Deal. **

I grinned widely and rocked back and forth slightly. I was jolted out of my mind when Sherlock came over to me and hauled me to my feet. "We have to go to Dewer's Hollow. It's Henry," Sherlock said urgently and pushed me ahead of him. I immediately followed John from the room, and we headed for the Range Rover.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

I held my breath as we bounced across the rough terrain of the moor. We were following Henry who was sprinting towards Dewer's Hollow, and I could see the outline of a pistol in his hand. Sherlock pulled us to a stop right before the woodline, and I launched out of the passenger seat. I took off running after Henry, sucking in deep breaths as I ducked and weaved between trees and branches. I could hear Sherlock and John crashing after me and Henry's panicked breathing ahead. My legs were burning and my shoes were soaked from the marshy floor of the forest. I grunted as I rammed my shoulder into a tree branch as I darted passed. We were approaching the edge of the hollow, and I slid down the lip on unsteady feet. "Henry no!" I screeched when I saw the poor man stick the barrel of the pistol in his mouth.

"Get back! Get-get away from me!" he said, frantically waving the pistol. I slowed my descent and approached him like a cornered animal. I held my hands out, palms flat, and maintained eye contact. "Easy, Henry. Relax," I said in an even voice.

"I know what I am! I know what I tried to do!" he screeched.

"Just put the gun down, it's okay," I said carefully, my eyes never leaving him. Sherlock and John skidded to a stop beside me, but I paid them no mind. "No, no, i know what I am!" Henry said in a hoarse voice.

"Yes, I"m sure you do. It's all been explained to you, hasn't it? Explained very carefully," Sherlock said.

"What?" Henry squeaked. I slowly took a step towards him, and John reached out to stop me. "Someone needed to keep you quiet; needed to keep you as a child to reassert the dream that you'd both clung to, because you had started to remember," Sherlock said carefully. We both stepped closer to him and John's fingers brushed uselessly along my back. "Remember now, Henry. You've got to remember what happened here when you were a little boy," he said slowly. I took another step as Henry stammered. He suddenly cried out and went to place the gun in his mouth again. I lunged forward and shouted, "No! Henry, for God's sake. Put. It. Down."

"Henry remember. 'Liberty In'. Two words; two words a frightened little boy saw here twenty years ago. You'd started to piece things together, remember what really happened here that night. It wasn't an animal, was it Henry?" Sherlock said to the cowering man. I took another step closer. "Not a monster," I said calmly. "A man." Henry looked up at me with widened eyes and I gave him a rueful smile. "You couldn't cope. You were just a child, dear. So, you rationalized it into something different. But then you started to remember, so you had to be stopped; driven out of your mind so no one would believe a word you said," I continued calmly and took another step. I was within four feet of a deranged man with a gun, and I could hear Lestrade crashing through the trees toward us. "Henry, give me the gun. You're okay. Trust me," I said softly, ignoring the men. I held out my hand to him and waited patiently. Henry stared at me as he slowly placed it in my hand, and I smiled. "That's it," I said and clicked the safety on before stuffing it in the waistband of my skirt. I held out my other hand and touched his cheek. "But-but we saw it: the hound, last night. We…. we… saw…," he stammered.

"Yeah, but there was a dog, Henry. Leaving footprints, scaring witnesses, but it was nothing more than an ordinary dog. We both saw it, we saw what our drugged minds wanted us to see. Fear and stimulus- that's how it works," I said calmly. Henry stared at me before slowly moving closer. "There was never any monster," I said as I placed my hands on his shoulders. A ferocious howl ripped out through the hollow, and I sucked in a quick breath. "Shezza…" I said and looked up at the rim of the hollow. The dark outline of a massive creature could be seen peering down at us. "No! No! No!" Henry wailed. I lunged towards Henry and wrapped my arms around him, effectively shielding him from looking. "Henry, it's not real! It's the drug. Trust me," I shouted over his wailing. He fought me off and I crashed to the ground. I propped myself up on my elbows as the hound slowly approached us. Henry continued to wail beside me, and John and Sherlock were speaking rapidly to Greg. I sucked in a quick breath as my mind threw another monster at me. Ethan. "No," I whispered and squeezed my eyes shut.

"Jamie," John called as I brought my knees up and covered my head with my arms, effectively shutting out the world. Ethan stalked towards me, blood dripping from his knife. "It's not real," I repeatedly whispered. "He's not here." I screamed as gunshots rang out. John dropped to his knees beside me and struggled to pry my arms away, but in my mind it was Ethan. "No! Let me go! Sherlock!" I screamed and fought against him. "Leave me alone!"

"Jamie!" John shouted. I screamed in response. Ethan- John- wrapped his arms around me and I struggled hard. "Leave me alone!" I screamed, my voice growing hoarse.

"John, stay with her!" Sherlock's voice ripped through my drug induced nightmare. I struggled harder as I was sucked back in. I was finally free and I sprinted blindly across the hollow and up the same way we came. I could hear someone shouting after me, but I wasn't going to stop. "Go away!" I screeched as I powered through the woods.

"Jamie! Stop! It's the drug! Just stop!" the one chasing me shouted. I wrinkled my eyebrows and slowed down. That gave my pursuer an edge and he overpowered me. I went sprawling to the floor, and I peeked up at them. "John?" I asked slowly, my voice hoarse from screaming.

"It' okay. I'm here," John whispered and pulled me into his chest. I buried my face in his neck and sobbed. "He was here. Ethan. He- he was going to hurt me again," I choked out.

"You said it yourself. It wasn't real. The drugs, they got to you, too. Pulled out your worst memory," John said carefully. I sobbed again, and squeaked when a massive explosion sounded. "What was that?" I hissed and peeked around, tears still dripping from my face.

"I believe that was the Great Grimpen Minefield. Doctor frankland took off towards it, maybe he triggered one of the explosives," John said his voice rumbling through his chest.

"Sherlock?" I squeaked.

"He's fine. He may be an idiot, but he wouldn't get himself killed. He'll come back," John said confidently. I clung to him tighter and watched the forest stretching out from where we were huddled to Dewer's Hollow. As time slowly moved forward, my heart began to pound in my chest with rising panic. I hiccuped a sob as I continued to watch. "Come on, Sherlock," John sighed. I clung to him, tears still dripping off my chin regularly. And then, he returned. He was strutting confidently through the woods with Greg and Henry flanking him. He looked around for a moment before his eyes settle on me. His face grew concerned and his pace quickened. "Jamie," he whispered. I hiccuped and reached out for him. "The explosion…. what happened?" I asked in my hoarse voice.

"Doctor Frankland ran out onto the minefield and blew himself up. Idiot," he explained as he took my fingers. He was crouched behind John, and Henry and Greg stood several feet back, watching us. John loosened his grip on me and turned so he could look at Sherlock. "She saw… you know," John explained carefully. I used my free hand to wipe my tears away and forced a smile. Sherlock quirked an eyebrow. I pulled on his hand and he leaned closer. John released me as Sherlock took his place. I smiled into his shoulder as Sherlock easily curved his arms around my back. My hands curled up to rest on the tops of his shoulders from behind his back. "Sentiment," Sherlock sighed. I snorted in response and sighed. "I'm knackered. Can we go home?" I said quietly. John laughed from behind us and slowly stood. I leaned back to look at Sherlock. "Can you walk?" he asked.

"Of course I can you dolt," I sighed and released him so we could stand. I nervously smoothed my skirt and wobbled slightly. Sherlock sighed and swept me up into his arms. "Smooth," I sighed. He smirked at me and lead the way through the woods. I listened to Greg and John talk behind us. "So, they aren't together?" Greg asked.

"I honestly don't know sometimes. They bicker like an old married couple," John said. "He obviously cares about her."

"Obviously," Greg agreed. I rolled my eyes and looked at the path ahead. I could see the edge of the moor and grinned when we stepped out of the woods. "You drive, John," Sherlock said as he carried me to the Range Rover. He set me down on my feet and opened the rear right door for me. I climbed in carefully and Sherlock handed John the keys as he walked around the back to climb in next to me. I scooted to him and laid my legs across his lap. My head rested on his shoulder and his arm curled around my back. John started the car and steered us back to Grimpen.

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I woke up the next morning curled up in a tight ball in the center of the bed. Sherlock had his arm around me and my back was resting against his chest. John was already up and in the shower. I slowly untucked my knees from in front of my face and rolled onto my stomach. Sherlock opened his eyes next to me and peered at me. "You kept us up all night," he muttered.

"Sorry," I said ruefully. Sherlock blinked and reached up to ruffle his curls while sitting up. I watched him and yawned quietly. "We're going home today," I said happily. Sherlock gave me a half smile and stood up from the side of the bed. He walked around the end to tidy up his things. I sighed and rolled over onto my back with my arms crossed over my eyes. John stepped out of the bathroom and glanced between us. "Good morning," he muttered. I lifted my arms and looked at him. "I'm sorry, John," I sighed.

"It's okay," John said and began to pack his things as well. Sherlock picked up a stack of clothes and made his way to the shower quickly. I let my arms fall and John sat on the edge of the bed. "Are you going to shower?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said. I lifted my arms and saw him nod before he settled on his back beside me. I slowly dozed off as I waited for Sherlock to finish. He didn't take very long and soon emerged from the bathroom. "You boys can go eat while I shower. i'm not hungry," I said as I slowly stood.

"You sure?" John asked as he stood to walk out of the room.

"Yes," I said with a brief smile at them. They returned it and stepped out of the room. I picked out an outfit and carefully made my way to the bathroom to shower. I bathed myself quickly and peered at myself with steel grey eyes in the mirror as I dried off and dressed. I had gained muscle in the weeks of living with Sherlock and John. I grinned and brushed out my copper colored hair. I then twisted it up into a messy bun and brushed my teeth. Once I was finished, I stepped out to pack my things. I stuffed all of my clothes and such into my bag and zipped it closed. Afterwards, I sat on the floor to pull on my black trainers. As I was finishing tying my left shoe, John and Sherlock returned. "Ready to go?" Sherlock asked. I grinned and nodded eagerly. John extend a hand to help me up and I took it gratefully. He pulled me to my feet and we both turned to pick up our bags. Sherlock grabbed his and I lead the way out of the room.

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I sighed happily as the taxi pulled to a stop outside of Speedy's. "I'm starving," I said as we climbed out. John and Sherlock walked around the back of the taxi and grabbed our bags while I stared longingly at the cafe. "Let's get our things inside, then we can eat, yeah?" John said as he passed me. I grinned and went to get the door. I held it open for them and John set my bag beside me as he passed. "Ta," I said with a smile. He smiled back and made his way upstairs with Sherlock following closely behind. I let the door fall shut and picked up my bag to carry it downstairs.

When I walked into the main room of the basement I dropped my bag too floor as Patrick engulfed me in a hug. "I missed you, too," I giggled.

"Did you get the hound?" he asked urgently.

"Just read John's blog. You'll know everything," I sighed and waved my hand in a vague gesture.

"Okay," he sighed. I grinned at him and picked up my bag to carry it to my room. "We're going to Speedy's in a mo'. Care to join us?" I asked him as he followed me.

"Sure," he said. I threw my bag on my bed and spun around to lead the way out of the flat. My stomach growled loudly as we ascended the stairs. John and Sherlock were waiting for us, and Patrick smiled at them. "Hello, Sherlock, John," he said.

"Hello," John said with a grin. Sherlock remained quiet but gave him a brief nod. I grabbed his hand and lead the way out of the building and next door. We sat at our favorite table and placed our orders. I glanced around at the boys and sighed. Sherlock was staring at the other patrons in the cafe while John and Patrick talked about the case a bit. I poked Sherlock in the ribs and he shifted a glare at me. "How are you feeling?" I asked.

"Fine. You?"

"Fantastic," I sighed. Our food came and I immediately began eating. We were all silent as we ate, and I watched Sherlock pick at his food. I sighed and flipped him in the leg. "Eat," I ordered when he glared at me. He rolled his eyes and took a huge bite. I grinned smugly and took an equally large bite. Patrick watched us with disgust and John had an amused expression. When we were all finished, Sherlock paid and John lead the way back home. We all headed upstairs to their flat and I immediately sprawled in Sherlock's chair. He went to pick up his violin and played quietly by the window. Patrick sat on the couch and read the newspaper while John made tea. "The detective trio made it into the paper. Front page actually," Patrick said as he held up the paper. I rolled my eyes at the picture. The headline read "FIGHTING THE HOUND" and it had a picture of me holding both John and Sherlock's hand as I lead them through Grimpen Village. Sherlock glanced at it before returning to stare out the window. John handed me a cup of tea and I smiled at him. He smiled back and went to blog on his computer. I slowly sipped my tea, and the room was silent except for the periodic rustle of Patrick's newspaper and John's typing. I sighed and set my half empty cup on a nearby table before curling up in a ball. Sherlock looked over his shoulder at me with a quirked eyebrow before spinning back around. We carried on in silence well into the night, and I finally stood to head into Sherlock's room. I sprawled out on top of the sheets in the middle of the bed with my head facing the bottom left corner and fell asleep.

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It took an entire week for me to finally break down from boredom. The excitement from the case had died down completely and I found myself lying around all day in a bra and sweatpants. I would occasionally throw on one of Sherlock's dressing gowns, but sometimes I didn't bother. Patrick hung around the flat sometimes, and he would usually shoot me unimpressed looks before turning back to the telly or newspaper. Sherlock and John would disappear periodically to the store or Scotland Yard. "Pat?" I said from my place on the couch. He looked up at me with a bewildered expression. "Can we do it now?" I asked.

"Do… what exactly?" he asked and folded the paper.

"Break into Mycroft's place," I said with a roll of my eyes. A grin stretched across Patrick's lips. "Of course, little sister. Go get dressed," he said eagerly. I jumped to my feet and darted down the stairs and passed a startled Mrs. Hudson. "Quit your running, Jamie! You'll give an old lady a heart attack!" she shouted after me.

"Sorry!" I shouted back. I hunted down a pair of jeans and my absolute favorite shirt. It was a forest green with a cartoon drawing of a guillotine with a stuffed bear operating it. A stuffed rabbit was beheaded, and little bits of stuffing poked out of the poor creature. I pulled it on and reached up to twist my hair into a tight bun before grabbing my black trainers and running back upstairs. Patrick was already outside with a taxi, and I climbed in eagerly. "I feel so giddy," I hissed to him as the taxi merged into London traffic. Patrick grinned at me before settling in for the ride. We both stared out the window, and would occasionally glance at each other to share a smile or giggle.

When we arrived I lead the way around the left side of the complex. "Oh, my dear brandy, here we come," I sighed quietly. Patrick sniggered behind me and we continued on in silence. I picked out the best possible place to gain entrance, and pointed it out to Pat. It was a small window, barely large enough to fit through, but it was cracked slightly and easily accessible from the ground. "Idiot," I giggled. Patrick grinned at me and prepared to boost me over the high fence. I stepped into the his cupped hands and he hoisted me up high enough for me to get a foot on the edge of the fence. I stepped onto the two inch wide lip in a crouch and turned to help him up beside me. We perched there like birds for a moment as I scanned the area. I motioned to a security camera that was slowly swiveling in our direction and we dropped like cats into the bushes below. I peeked out at the camera and waited for it to turn away. When it did, I motioned to Patrick and darted across the open lawn in front of us. We crouched below the cracked window, and I slowly stood to peek inside. It was a small library and it was completely empty. I grinned at Patrick and dropped back down into a crouch. "Library, empty," I whispered. He nodded and glanced up at the camera. It was slowly coming our direction once more so I stood and slid the window up. It went quietly, and Patrick hoisted me through. I turned to pull him in and we tumbled to the floor in a heap. I grinned at him and turned to the window to lower it back into the same position. "Where's his office?" Patrick whispered as we moved to crouch behind one of the stacks.

"Same floor, this wing. Not far actually," I hissed back with a slight smirk. He smiled at me and peeked around the room. The entire building was eerily silent, and it gave me gooseflesh. "Mycroft must not be home," I said softly as I lead the way to the door. I peeked out into the hall and smiled. It had one guard posted at the far end, and he was looking in the opposite direction. I leaned back in and gestured to the end of the hall and motioned my hands into a guard. Patrick nodded at me and I leaned back into the hall. The man hadn't moved, so I turned to look the other direction. I spotted Mycroft's office, three doors down on the opposite side of the hallway. I leaned back in to speak to Patrick. "We'll probably have to pick the lock. So, you think you could distract the guard for a few minutes. This wing makes a complete circle so just run towards Mycroft's office and go around. Make as much noise as you can. He'll chase you and I'll go for the door. Once I'm inside, I'll find a way to call him off you. Understand?" I hissed. Patrick nodded with a determined look and leaned out into the hall. He glanced back at me to catch my nervous grin before he darted out into the hall. He began to make a fool of himself as he ran down to the other end of the hall. I listened to the guard shout after him and watched him storm passed. I took my chance immediately and darted across the hall to Mycroft's door. I tried the handle, and sure enough, it was locked. I smirked and began to pick the lock carefully with one of the pins from my hair. I thanked Sherlock silently as the door clicked open and eased my way inside. The office was dark and in the exact same state it was when Sherlock destroyed Irene. I grimaced at the memory and turned on the lights. I shut the door behind me and approached the desk. I looked around for a moment before spotting a row of buttons. I quirked an eyebrow and crouched to read the labels. I snorted as I read one, which called the guards to this office. I pressed it and poured myself a few fingers of brandy before settling in Mycroft's chair and propping my feet up. I pulled out my phone and took a sip before typing a message to Mycroft

**Dear Mycroft, I have come for a visit. So call off your dogs and leave my brother alone. **

I imagined mycroft reading the message and grinned as I took my next sip. I looked up calmly as the door burst open and several men in suits stepped through. One man had Patricks arm in an iron grip. "Oh, dear. Let him go. You all know who I am," I sighed and rolled my eyes. They glared at me and I took another sip. "Just get me an umbrella and I could be your boss," I teased with a smirk. They remained silent and I glanced at my phone. No reply. "I'm serious. Let him go. We didn't break anything, and Mycroft loves me," I sighed and rolled my eyes. Patrick stared at me wide-eyed before his expression changed to relief when the man released him. "Thanks," i said in a singsong voice. I swiveled back and forth and took another sip. "You boys can go now," I said and waved my free hand. They glared at me and crossed their arms. Patrick slowly walked towards me and I poured him a glass. I handed it to him and he went to sit in the chair Sherlock had occupied with an uneasy glance at the guards. "Boys, you all know me. Don't make me call Daddy," I sighed. They remained a stoney wall of muscle and my phone chimed

**Just don't break anything, Ms. McConnell. I disapprove of your habits of breaking in to my home. My 'dogs' as you say are being told right this moment to leave you both alone. M **

I grinned and looked up at the guards. "Bye, boys," I said with a wave as they all turned and left. "Close the door!" It slammed shut and I giggled into my drink. "Oh, this had been fun," I sighed. Patrick snorted from his chair and turned to look at me. "Is Mycroft going to join us?" he asked slowly.

"No clue," I said with a shrug. I picked up my phone once more and typed another message to Mycroft

**Care to join us? **

His reply didn't take very long

**I am very busy. You may stay the night if you have to, but don't expect this to be long term. M **

**But Baker Street is lonely. **

**You have five people living there. M **

**Two of them have decided to leave me behind now. **

**And you are upset about that? M **

**Well of course, I need cases just as much as they do. **

I sighed and took another sip. I was halfway through the glass and my head was starting to buzz. My phone chimed once more and it wasn't Mycroft

**Where are you? SH **

**Having loads of fun. **

**I hope that fun is taking place in Baker Street. SH**

**No.**

**Where are you, Jamie? SH**

**If you must know, I am at big brother's house. Now leave me alone. **

I sighed and set my phone on the desk. I turned to Patrick and saw him smiling at me. "What?" I huffed.

"I think I could get used to this," he replied vaguely.

"...this?" I prompted.

"Living here. It's absolutely gorgeous. Mycroft Holmes is a lucky man," he sighed. I rolled my eyes and snorted. "I prefer Baker Street. It is nice though. Mycroft has offered lodging for us for the night. I plan on being too sloshed to make it home, so I will take the offer," I stated with a proud grin.

"I too will take the offer," he replied with a grin of his own. "Can't let that offer just slip passed. It's too valuable." I nodded in agreement and took another drink. My phone chimed again and i rolled my eyes as I picked it up

**I will be home around midnight. Will you be staying? I need to let the maids know. M **

**Yes, and Patrick, too? **

**Of course. M **

I grinned and looked up at Patrick. "We have secured rooms for the night. Now, time to stumble to bed?" I asked. Patrick nodded eagerly and I set my glass down on the tray beside the almost empty bottle of brandy. Patrick walked over and place his glass next to mine before we headed for the door. My phone chimed again

**Anette will be waiting for you in the main room. M **

I closed my phone and stuffed it in my pocket as I slowly lead the way to Anette. It took us ten minutes to find her, and she lead us up the massive staircase to the bedrooms. "Mr. McConnell, your room is here," Anette said as we stepped up in front of a wooden door. I took the moment to study Anette. She had brown hair that was tucked up into an elegant bun. He hands were impossibly small and her face was pinched up in a cute manner. She had beauty that she didn't even know of. Her eyes were a comfortable shade of brown. She smiled at me when she noticed me studying her, and turned to lead the way to my room. "Here we are, Ms. McConnell," she said as we stopped ten doors down.

"Jamie," I corrected and reached for the handle.

"Jamie," she repeated with a small smile. I opened the door and stepped inside. The room was massive, and the bed dominated the floor. The carpet was a deep blue and the walls were charcoal grey. A door to a shining bathroom stood off to the side of the opposite wall. "Oh, my," I sighed happily.

"Mr. Holmes wanted the best for his guests," Annette said from behind me.

"Well, Mr. Holmes has certainly provided," I said as I turned to look at her. "You are exceptionally beautiful. Please excuse my forwardness, I'm sloshed." She blushed a deep shade of red and thanked me many times. "Oh, please. You are gorgeous. I am surprised you aren't married," I said and waved a hand at her. She smiled at me and remained quiet, her cheeks still pink in the aftermath of her furious blush. "Well, good night, gorgeous Annette," I said and waved to her as I slowly made my way to the bathroom.

"Good night,... Jamie. I'll just close the door," she said to me. I nodded to her and watched her shut it before stumbling into the bathroom. I relieved my bladder and washed my hands before stepping back out into the room. I walked over to the bed and struggled out of my trainers. I yanked my jeans and shirt off before pulling back the covers and climbing in. I scooted to the center and sprawled out on my stomach. The bed was comfortable and the pillows were soft and smelled like chamomile. I sighed comfortably and eased into a drunken sleep.


	19. Chapter 19

**Hey everyone! Here's some more chapters…. Enjoy:) **

Chapter 19

I woke up the next morning and immediately felt disoriented. The world tipped suddenly and i gagged as I threw the covers off and stumbled to the gilded bathroom. I hurtled myself to the toilet and barely managed to sweep my hair back as I violently emptied the contents of my stomach. I laid my cheek on the cold porcelain for several minutes and took deep breaths. "Ew," I mumbled with my eyes squeezed shut. I shifted from my kneeling position to sitting with my legs wrapped around towards the back of the toilet and my back arched to keep my head firmly planted on the edge of the toilet. I opened my eyes slowly and the world tipped once more. I puked once more and sighed. "God, make it stop," I whined with my eyes closed. I laid there for several more moments, praying for the world to stop spiraling around me. My head ached fiercely and I squeezed my eyes shut. "Mycroft!" I screeched. I attempted to open my eyes again and immediately gagged. It took several minutes for someone to finally arrive, and I listened to them strut towards me. "Yes, Ms. McConnell?" Mycroft Holmes's voice sounded from the doorway to the bathroom.

"Make it stop," I whined and squinted at him.

"Oh, dear. Are we a bit hung over?" he said with his arms crossed behind his back, which was straight.

"Yes," I muttered and glared at him.

"Maybe we shouldn't have broken in to my home and drank my brandy," Mycroft said offhandedly.

"Shut up, you pompous arse. Help me," I sighed and closed my eyes.

"Headache?" he asked. I jerked my chin and listened to him walk farther in to the room to hunt around in the cabinets. "Do you do this often?" I asked.

"No, but i have a feeling I might begin to," he said as he rattled a pill bottle and filled up the glass by the sink with water. He walked toward me and I opened my eyes to see him hold them out. I slowly lifted my head and took them carefully. I stuck the pills in my mouth and grimaced at the bitter taste before I chased them down with water. I pushed the handle on the toilet and watched Mycroft step back. He resumed his position and watched me stare at the toilet with a horrible expression on my face. "Where's Pat?" I sighed not looking at him.

"He is currently eating breakfast downstairs," Mycroft replied.

"Fantastic," I sighed. "Can you grab my phone? Somewhere in there." I waved my hand at the general direction of the bed. Mycroft sighed and walked into the bedroom. He swiped my phone off the unused pillow on the massive bed and walked back to hand it to me. I had several messages from Sherlock

**Come back to Baker Street. SH **

**Why did you break into Mycroft's house? SH **

**Jamie. Come home. SH **

**Mycroft says you're staying the night. Why? SH **

I smirked and scrolled through them, squinting at the brightness of the screen. I then read John's single message

**Sherlock and I are worried about you. Please come back to Baker Street. He won't stop pacing and muttering about you. **

I snorted at that and set my phone on the floor by my right thigh. I groaned and rubbed my eyes. "Are you still here?" I sighed.

"Yes," he said.

"Help me up?" I pleaded and looked over at him. He grimaced for a moment before stepping towards me and holding out his hands. I grinned and took them. He slowly pulled me up and I wobbled slightly before stopping to grab my phone and shuffling to the bed. "I'll go home soon. Promise," I muttered as I flopped down on the mattress. Mycroft sighed and pulled the covers over me before leaving. I grinned and closed my eyes. My headache was monumentally better and my stomach felt much better. I sighed and rolled over onto my stomach and pulled my phone up in front of my face again to type a message to Sherlock

**I'm fine. Hungover. But I'll be fine. Coming home soon. Maybe. **

I closed my eyes and let my head fall onto my arms as I waited for his reply. it came seconds later

**Come home now. It's positively boring here. John won't even play Cluedo with me. SH **

**No. I might puke all over the place. Mycroft doesn't mind my company. **

I smirked and tossed my phone off the edge of the bed. It made a satisfying thump on the floor, and I sighed quietly. I closed my eyes and slowly fell asleep.

I woke up several hours later to insistent knocking on the door. "Come in," I called from my nest of blankets and pillows on the bed. The door opened and I peeked open my eyes to see who it was. To my chagrin, it was Sherlock. "Hello, Jamie," he said as he approached the bed.

"Fancy seeing you here," I muttered and rolled over. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the covers down from my face. "Don't you hate being here? Why are you?" I muttered and squinted at him.

"I came to take you home. If I have to carry you, I will," he threatened.

"Oh, would you be so kind? I feel positively lazy today," I sighed with a lopsided grin. I crossed my arms behind my head and met his eyes. "Oh, dear. You missed me," I said, my grin widening.

"No, John did,"

"And that's why he made a special trip to his loathed big brother's house to get me?" I said watching his reaction. He scowled at me and pinched the underside of my arm. "Ow!" I screeched and slapped at him. He slowly grinned at me while I scowled. His eyes danced with mirth and I couldn't help smiling back. "You know I'm almost naked. Poor Mycroft had to come help me this morning. He was probably very uncomfortable," I said offhandedly.

"Probably the most female skin he's ever seen," Sherlock muttered with a dark look.

"Always so jealous, Mr. Holmes," I sighed. A quiet cough sounded from the doorway and I looked up to see Annette standing in the open doorway. "Hello, gorgeous. Come in," I said with a wide grin. She blushed and walked slowly towards us. "Hello, Mr. Holmes, Ms. McConnell. I was told to inform you that we have a car prepared to take you home. Mr. McConnell will be remaining here," she said in a tentative voice.

"Why?" I said with a quirked eyebrow.

"Patrick is helping Mycroft with his diet," Sherlock replied.

"He is quite a good assistant. The wanker nagged me out of smoking," I said with a grin at the both. Annette smiled back while Sherlock winked at me. "Oh, was that a wink?" I gasped. Sherlock rolled his eyes at me and looked over at Annette. "I assume Mycroft wants us to leave, now. And you're here to escort us out?" Sherlock said. Annette nodded and I sighed. "Does it have to be right now?" I whined.

"As soon as you wish, Ms. McConnell," Annette replied.

"Didn't I tell you to call me Jamie? I swear I did, so stop with the Ms. McConnell business," I said with a wave of my hand.

"Sorry," she sighed. I grinned at he then glanced over at Sherlock. He was watching me with a bewildered expression. "Well, I'm going to sleep some more now," I said and rolled over. I quickly buried myself under the covers and prayed for them to leave. They didn't. "Jamie, come along. I'll carry you if you put your clothes on," Sherlock said.

"And if I don't?" I asked with my voice muffled by the pillows.

"I'll carry you anyways," Sherlock replied.

"Fair enough," I sighed and pulled the covers back. I slowly scooted to the edge of the bed and sat up. I glared at the clothes on the floor and slowly stood so I could pull them on. I glanced over at my small audience and grinned when I saw their eyes glued to me. They immediately looked away. "Oh, I don't mind," I said with a wave of my hand as I buttoned my jeans. I scooped up my shirt and pulled it on. I walked over to the bed and grabbed my phone, then stuffed it in my pocket. "Ready when you are," I said as I grabbed my trainers. Annette nodded and turned to leave the way. Sherlock made a move for the door but I grabbed the back of his coat. "You said you'd carry me," I said in a singsong voice.

"Oh, yes," he said with a roll of his eyes. He squatted down in front of me and I ran a hand through his hair before I climbed onto his back. He hooked his hands under my knees and stood. He adjusted my position so he had a better grip and I crossed my legs around his waist. "You honestly don't look very strong," I said in his ear.

"Part of my 'image'. People underestimate me," Sherlock replied. I scoffed and rolled my eyes. We caught up to Annette and she glanced at me with an odd expression. "I make him hold up to his bargains," I said and she nodded. She looked back ahead of us and I pressed a kiss to the right side of his neck. He looked over his shoulder at me and gave me a half smile. "I want to go swimming. Does Mycroft have a swimming pool?" I asked.

"No, but Mummy and Father do," Sherlock replied.

"Oh really? Can we visit them?" I said excitedly.

"No," Sherlock said flatly. I sighed and rested my chin on his shoulder. He carried me all the way to the car and set me down as Annette opened the door. Sherlock gestured for me to enter first and I blew a kiss at Annette as I climbed. Sherlock climbed in after me and I laid my head in his lap with my knees tucked up against the opposite door. "What are we doing today?" I asked.

"You slept the entire day away, so nothing. John is making dinner," he replied.

"I'm going to paint tonight, care to join me?" I asked with a grin.

"I'll watch," he muttered and looked out the window.

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Later in the evening, I had an easel and canvas set up in the center of the boys' flat. I had set up a row of paint jars on the coffee table and a cup of water to clean my brush. I had changed into a pair of paint stained sweatpants and a tank-top. Sherlock was sitting on the couch with his violin plucking quietly as he observed me surveying the canvas. "I don't know what to paint," I sighed and brushed my hand through my hair. Sherlock remained silent behind me. John was off on yet another date to the cinema, and Sherlock and I were stuck together. "Mind if I paint you?" I asked and squinted at him.

"Do I have to move?" he muttered.

"No, find a position that suits you. You don't have to stay still," I said as I turned back to the canvas. I turned the entire easel so I could see Sherlock and watched him maneuver himself. He set the violin down and laid flat on the sofa. He brought his hands up into the prayer position and stretched his toes momentarily before looking at me. "You ready?" I asked. He nodded and turned his face back forwards and closed his eyes. I smiled and got to work.

It took me an extremely long amount of time to capture his exact likeness. When I was finished he stood to walk around and appraise my work. "My hair is too.. curly," he muttered and walked away.

"Oi! Get back here you wanker," I called after him. He turned to look at me and I set the paintbrush down. "That was rude. I worked really hard," I said with my arms crossed.

"I am sorry," he muttered. I rolled my eyes and walked towards him, letting my arms drop. I looked up at him and he turned his gaze to me. Our eyes locked and I slowly lifted my hands to lay them on his face, cupping his cheeks. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer. "What am I going to do with you, Sherlock Holmes. I never intended to care about you like I do. Or John. Mrs. Hudson. Molly. Mycroft even," I sighed. He remained silent. "But I do, and it sort of hurts," I continued. He frowned at me and pulled me closer. "I will gladly take that pain if it means that I never stop worrying about any of you," I said and closed my eyes. I listened to his breathing before something unexpected happened. He turned and pressed a kiss to the inside of my left palm. I smiled and looked up at him again. "Did anyone ever tell you that you are quite affectionate?" I said with a small smile.

"On the contrary, everyone thinks I despise human affections," he replied softly.

"Well, then they're a bunch of idiots," I muttered and pressed my lips to his forehead. He smiled and closed his eyes and I stepped out of his hold. "Good night," I said and headed to his room. I pulled off my sweatpants and climbed under the covers on my side of the bed. I curled up with my knees tucked to my chest and closed my eyes. I listened to Sherlock pick up the violin and play a quiet tune, which I fell asleep easily to.

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The upcoming weeks were a blur of cases and press conferences. We were standing in front of a crowd of reporters as the director thanked us for finding one of Turner's masterpieces. He handed a wrapped box to Sherlock and said, "A token of our gratitude."

"Diamond cufflinks. All my cuffs have buttons," Sherlock said as he stared at the box.

"He means thank you," John said to the director.

"Do I?" Sherlock said.

"Just say it," I hissed at him. He turned to the director and said it in an insincere voice and then turned to leave. "Oi," I said and grabbed him. He sighed and turned back as several cameras flashed.

Another few days blurred passed and we were before yet another crowd of reporters. A man we had rescued from kidnappers had his arms around his wife and son while the three of us stood a little to the side uncomfortably. "Back together with my family after my terrifying ordeal; and we have one person to thank for my deliverance- Sherlock Holmes," the man said. I rolled my eyes slightly as the crowd applauded. The son turned and smiled at us before handing Sherlock a small box. Sherlock rattled it and muttered "Tie pin. I don't wear ties." I pinched his arms and he glared at me. Cameras flashed once more and I tried not to glare at them.

More time passed and we were at Scotland Yard. I glanced around the room as Greg spoke and spotted Donovan and Anderson in the back. I scowled at them and Sally smiled back at me. John touched my arm as Greg thanked Sherlock. I turned my attention back to him. "Sarcasm," I said in a soft singsong voice to them.

"Yes," Sherlock replied. The crowd applauded and greg walked to us with a wrapped package. i groaned softly as he handed it to Sherlock. "We all chipped in," Greg said. Sherlock tore open the wrapping and I turned to level a glare at Donovan and Anderson as they grinned expectantly. "Oh, good lord," I sighed as Sherlock pulled out a deerstalker.

"Oh!" Sherlock said, attempting to smile. Reporters started to shout that he should put the hat on and I sighed. "Yeah, Sherlock, put it on!" Greg chimed. Sherlock looked at the reporters with murder in his eyes and I touched his arm. "Get it over with," I whispered. He met my gaze and glared. I stared back at him calmly and a ghost of a smile passed over my lips. A camera flashed and I turned to glare at the offender. Sherlock sighed and slowly put the hat on. I watched the room erupted into applause and cameras clicked madly. Donovan was clapping sarcastically and Anderson had a smug look on his face.

The next day, John and I were lounging on the couch while Sherlock paced around. I had my feet propped up on the back of the sofa and my head hanging towards the floor while John sat beside me reading the _Daily Star_. He tossed the paper onto a stack of others and looked up at Sherlock. "'Boffin', 'Boffin Sherlock Holmes'," Sherlock said.

"Everybody gets one," John replied and I snorted.

"One what?"

"Tabloid nickname. 'SuBo'; 'Nasty Nick'. Shouldn't worry- we'll get one soon,"

"Page five, column six, first and sixth sentence," Sherlock replied. John flipped open the newspaper once more and read it. Sherlock walked over to mantle and picked up his new fat and punched it "Why is it always the hat photograph?" he asked.

"'Bachelor John Watson'?" John scoffed.

"What sort of hat is it anyway?" Sherlock continued. I slowly spun around the right right direction and pulled the paper towards me. "'Bachelor'. What the hell are they implying?" John scoffed while I scanned the page. Sherlock held the hat up and twisted it back and forth rapidly. "Is it a cap? Why has it got two fronts?" he said.

"It's a deerstalker," John said.

"You stalk a deer with a hat? What are you gonna do- throw it?" he muttered as he glared indignantly at the hat. "Some sort of death frisbee?" I finally reached my name and squeaked. "'Bawdy'?" I said and covered my face. "'Bawdy Jamie McConnell." John snorted beside me and I shifted a glare at him through my fingers. "There's more, Jamie," Sherlock sighed. I reluctantly looked down at the page again and read more. "...Confirmed relationship with Sherlock Holmes? What the fuck?" I scoffed and threw the paper across the room. It fluttered uselessly and landed by Sherlock's feet. "Oh, I hadn't noticed this," he said and picked it up. He turned to hold it up to me and the dreaded picture was there. Sherlock and I had our eyes locked on each other at Scotland yard. Sherlock clutched the deerstalker in his hand and I had a ghost smile on my lips while he had a slightly quirked eyebrow. "Oh no," I sighed and turned to curl up with my face in the back of the sofa. John was shaking with laughter and I resisted the urge to kick him to death. "We need to be more careful," John said after he had calmed down. Sherlock threw the deerstalker at me and I grabbed it from where it landed on my hip. I covered my burning face with it and sighed. "It's got flaps… ear flaps. It's an ear hat, John," Sherlock complained. "What do you mean 'more careful'?"

"I mean that isn't a deerstalker now; it's a Sherlock Holmes hat. I mean that you're not exactly a private detective anymore," he said and held up his first finger and thumb to show a small distance. "You're this far from famous."

"It'll pass,"

"It better pass. The press will turn, Shezza. And they'll turn on you," I said as I lifter the hat and rolled to face the room.

"It really bothers the both of you," Sherlock said as he slumped into his chair.

"What?"

"What people say,"

"Yes," I sighed. Sherlock nodded slowly and closed his eyes. John stood to head for the shower. When he was gone, I walked over to Sherlock. I pushed his shoulders back and sat on his lap with my legs handing over the arm of the chair. He curled a hand around my back and looked down at me. "I am sorry about that nickname. It's ghastly," he sighed.

"And completely true," I said with a slow smirk. He smirked back and I twisted the fingers of my left hand into the hair at the base of his neck. He smiled slightly and leaned into my touch. I quirked an eyebrow at him and reached for my phone with my right hand. I switched it on and sent a text to Mycroft

**Baby brother and I are bored. Anything fun to do? **

I switched it off and laid it on my thigh. Sherlock had his eyes closed as I slowly brushed my fingers through his hair. "Do you think we should tell John?" I asked quietly.

"Tell him what?"

"About the kiss. Well kisses," I said carefully. He opened his eyes and looked at me. "He'd be pleased," he said slowly.

"But it'd be harder to hide from the press," I muttered. He nodded slightly and his eyes roved over my face. My phone buzzed and I picked it up

**No. Do not break into my home again. M**

**Oh, darn. I was really hoping to. **

**I won't be so nice this time. M **

**You will because you love me. **

**I will fruitfully deny that to the end of time. M **

**Suit yourself. **

I set my phone down and looked at Sherlock. He had a quirked eyebrow. "Mycroft," I muttered. He rolled his eyes and sighed. I giggled and continued to play with his hair. He leaned forward suddenly and pressed his lips to mine. "Oh," I gasped and immediately responded. I moved my hand to his shoulder and used it as leverage to turn my torso so we were chest to chest. I leaned on my knees on the outside of his hips and he held my waist to steady me. I broke away to suck in a deep breath before returning to him eagerly. "Oh, God," he sighed when I began to kiss down his jaw. I smiled against his skin. He smelled like home. It was the only way to describe Sherlock. I was careful not to leave any marks on his pale skin and returned to his lips. I ground my hips into his and his lips parted in shock. I took advantage of that and nipped his bottom lip before allowing my tongue to lick behind his teeth. He nervously drummed his fingers on my hips and I parted from him. "You okay?" I asked quietly and watched his face.

"Just a bit… uh, nervous," he said softly.

"We can stop," I suggested. He studied my face before giving me a quick nod. I smiled and nodded back at him before shifting back to our previous position. "I'm… sorry," he said in a slightly husky voice.

"Don't worry. I know you aren't ready. I'm sorry for pushing you," I said with a small smile up at him.

"It's quite all right," he replied. I kissed his cheek and stood from his lap. I walked into the kitchen to make tea and he began work on another experiment. I walked back into the living room to watch him string up a mannequin by it's neck. He then walked into the kitchen to work at his microscope. I quirked an eyebrow at the plastic person before walking to the sofa and sitting on it with my feet on the seat beside me. John emerged from the bathroom toweling off his hair. Sherlock's phone chimed a text alert. "It's your phone," John said.

"Mm. Keeps doing that," he replied. He walked passed him to sit in his chair and pick up the newspaper. "So, did you just talk to him for a really long time?" John asked. Sherlock looked up and glanced at the mannequin. "Oh. Henry Fishguard never commited suicide," he said. "Bow Street Runners: missed everything."

"Pressing case, is it?" John asked sarcastically. I smirked from my place on the sofa and sipped my tea. "They're all pressing, 'till they're solved," Sherlock replied. Sherlock turned back to his microscope and his phone sounded several more times. "I'll get it," I sighed and set my cup down. I walked over to his phone and picked it up. I sucked in a deep breath and said, "God."

"Not now, I'm busy," Sherlock replied.

"No, Shezza. He's...he's back," I choked out. I handed him the phone and he read the message.

**Come and play. Tower Hill. Jim Moriarty X. **

He looked up at me with wide eyes. "Oh, no," I whispered and slowly covered my face with my hands. Memories assaulted me from all sides and I squeezed my eyes shut. Sherlock immediately dropped his phone to pull me into his chest. He locked his arms around my back and I buried my face into his neck. "Why doesn't it ever stop? Every night, I dream of it. Every damn night. And one mention of him and I'm reduced to mewling quim," I sobbed.

"You have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It's very common," John said as he approached us. He placed a warm hand at the center of my back and I sighed. Sherlock rubbed his thumbs on my back and pressed a kiss to my cheek. "You are very strong. You're not a whiny vagina," he said. I couldn't help the snort I emitted at his words and a brief smile ghosted across my lips. "Vaginas are strong. They have to be. One gave birth to your massive head," I muttered. John doubled over in laughter and his hand dropped from my back to clutch his sides. Sherlock sighed and I opened my eye to peek at him. "I'll let that one slide in the hopes that you'll never mention my mother's vagina ever again," he said.

"I make no promises, stud," I muttered to his neck. John gained control of himself and I looked back at him to flash a smile. "I'm utterly fantastic aren't I?" I said.

"You certainly give us all a run for our money," he said with a grin. Sherlock rolled his eyes and loosened his hold on me. "We should get to the scene," Sherlock said. I sighed and nodded before stepping out of his hold to wipe my tears as I walked over to his coat. I tossed it and his scarf to him before grabbing mine. I pulled it on and handed John's coat to him. He nodded thanks at me and we all headed out of the door. "I want to hail the taxi," I said as we exited. Sherlock smirked at me and gestured grandly for me to do the honors. I rolled my eyes at him and stepped up to the curb. I got one on the first try and looked smugly back at the boys. "You going to stand there all day?" I teased and climbed in. They immediately made their way over to the taxi and climbed in. Sherlock instructed the driver where to go and I pulled out my phone to once more send a text

**Hello gorgeous. **

I smiled slightly and set my phone face down on my thigh. Sherlock quirked an eyebrow at me as he looked up from his phone. "What?" I said.

"Who did you just text?" he asked and reached for my phone.

"Annette," I said and slapped his hand. He sent a dark glare at me and slowly withdrew his hand. I blew him a kiss and picked up my phone when it chimed her response

**Yes, Jamie? **

**Oh, sassy. How would you like to go dancing with me on Saturday?**

**I have to work. **

**I can convince Mycroft to let you go. **

**Fine. **

**It's a date. **

I switched over to type a message to Mycroft

**Dear Mr. Holmes, Would you please allow the lovely Annette the evening off Saturday so she can escort me on our excursion the the dance floor? I'll shower you with my affections forever. **

I switched my phone off and returned it to my thigh as I waited for Mycroft's response. John gave me a brief smile as I caught his eye, and I grinned back. We arrive at the Tower and I climbed out. John paid the driver and we walked to thee police line. "The freakshow has arrived," Donovan said from across the yellow line.

"One day, Donovan, one day you will test her patience to the limit. I've been on the receiving end of that rage, it is not a comfortable experience," Sherlock said and gestured to me. I was scowling deeply at her and my back was tight. I balled my hands into fists and barely registered when my nails bit into my palms. Sherlock placed a hand on my lower back and gently guided me inside. I swiveled my head to maintain eye contact with her and bared my teeth slightly. She had the sanity to look slightly afraid and Sherlock subtly brushed his thumb on my back. I was immediately in a terrible mood and John stepped up to toss his arm over my stiff shoulders. "She's lucky," I muttered as we entered the building.

"She knows," Sherlock replied. I took a short breath and slowly relaxed my hands. My back remained stiff, but I had dropped the scowl. "Relax, Jamie," Sherlock ordered quietly and repeated brushed his thumb. I glanced up at him and continued to walk to the room with the security footage. Sherlock remained in contact with my back as we stepped into the room. Greg looked up when he saw us and let out a sigh of relief. "Show us the tape," Sherlock said as he guided me to the screen. I swallowed and waited for it to play. And my stomach plummeted as I was confirmed. I had had a one night stand with the Consultant Criminal. Sherlock glanced at me and pressed his fingertips into my back briefly. He leaned over to whisper in my ear. "Is it him?" he asked ruefully. I gave him a short nod and looked away as my eyes began to burn. "Hey, what's wrong, sweetheart?" Greg asked when he saw my red eyes.

"John," Sherlock said and waved his hand at me. John immediately stepped up to me and hugged me. "I'm fine, John," I said with my back once again stiff. I held his hips and tried to push him off. "You're not," John said.

"Mewling quim remember?" I said softly and pushed on him again. "No more crying." John smiled and kissed both my cheeks before releasing me and heading back over to the screen. I wrapped my arms around my middle and hunched over slightly with my back to the men. "That glass is tougher than anything," Greg said.

"Not tougher than crystallized carbon. He used a diamond," Sherlock said. I took a deep shuddering breath and Sherlock reached back to brush a finger on my back. I smiled slightly and turned to catch his concerned look. "I'm fine," I insisted and stepped closer. He turned back to the tape and assumed the prayer position as it played and rewinded over and over. "Coffee anyone?" a voice asked from the door. I lifted my hand and waved, and the officer nodded before leaving the room. I rubbed my hands on my face and sighed. It didn't take long for him to return with a paper cup. He handed it to me and I gave him a two fingered salute before sipping the bitter liquid. He grinned at me and turned to leave. My tabloid nickname popped into my mind and I sighed. Sherlock winked at me and continued to watch the tape.

**Sugar: Thanks for the review. I really needed that. I have no idea how I have so few, and I wish I had some more. But, all in good time I guess. :) **


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: I don't own or claim any royalties over Sherlock BBC **

Chapter 20

The trial was that afternoon, and we went back to Baker Street to get ready. I walked around their flat in my bra and sweatpants for half an hour as I focused on my breathing. Sherlock was sitting in his chair, watching me. "Are you going to get dressed soon?" he asked with his chin on his fist.

"Dressed?" I asked, my mind foggy in my panic.

"Unless you're planning on showing up to the trial like that," he said and his gaze swiveled over me. I broke out of my stupor and glanced down. "Oh," I sighed and rolled my eyes. I waved my fingers at him and immediately turned to run down to the basement.

"Patrick!" I shouted as I burst into the living room.

"Yes, baby sister?" he called from the kitchen.

"Help me!" I shouted as I dashed into my bedroom. He chuckled and followed me in. I yanked open the closet and immediately started pulling outfits out. I was a flurry of activity while Patrick was motionless at the doorjam. He leaned with a slight tilt to his head and his arms crossed. "Which one?" I sighed and held up a skirt and leggings.

"Both," he said. I glanced at them and nodded before dropping them to strip off my sweats. I yanked them on and grinned up at him. "Shirt?" I asked and pointed to the mountain of shirts I had piled on my bed. I walked back over to my closet and chose a pair of black flats while he shuffled through the pile of clothes. "It's quite cold outside today, so how about long sleeves?" Patrick said.

"Sure," I said with a small quirk to my lips. He dipped his chin in a nod before turning back to refine his search. I walked over to the bathroom and brushed my teeth. When I came back, he had selected a grey v-necked sweater. "Fantastic," I sighed and pulled it on. I walked back to the bathroom to twist my hair up into a bun before kissing Patrick on the cheek as I passed him on my way upstairs. The boys were there waiting and John held an arm out to me as Sherlock went to open the door."Ready?" he hesitated.

"Yes," John replied. I gripped his arm as Sherlock opened the door. I ducked my head as we were bombarded with camera flashes and shouting voices. The police cleared as path for us, but we still had to duck out of the way of microphones and cameras thrust into our face. I clenched John's arm in a vice as we fought our way to the car waiting at the curb for us. Sherlock yanked open the door and reached out to guide me in first. I smirked at him as the cameras flashed as soon as he made contact with me. I released John and slid inside. John followed soon after, and Sherlock brought up the rear. As soon as the door shut we set off to the Old Bailey.

"Shezza?" I asked and leaned around John to look at him.

"Yes?"

"Please remember.."

"Yes," he cut me off quickly.

"Remember…"

"Yes," once more.

"Remember what they told you: don't try to be clever…" I blurted out.

"No," Sherlock said over me. I balled my fist in an attempt to calm my anger at his childishness. "... please just keep it simple and brief," I finished.

"God forbid the star witness at the trial should come across as intelligent," Sherlock shot back.

"Sherlock Holmes, intelligent is fine, but lets give smart-arse a wide berth, all right?" I sighed.

"I'll just be myself," he muttered after a slight pause.

"Are you even listening to me?" I said in a slightly elevated voice. John sighed and looked between us. I smiled apologetically at him before leaning back after one final glare at Sherlock. We arrived moments later and my door was opened first. A man in a suit reached in and grabbed my upper arm gently as he pulled me out. He shielded me from the camera flashes as I struggled to breathe at the close contact. I forced a grateful smile on my face as he escorted me into the building. Sherlock immediately followed me and his eyes scanned my face. "He didn't know," Sherlock said softly as I stared back at him with wide eyes.

"I know," I sighed as my fear slowly dissipated. He gave me a miniscule smile before leading the way farther into the building. John caught up to us and walked on my other side. "I need a moment," Sherlock said and turned into the men's restroom. John and I glanced at each other and I gestured to a wooden bench for us to wait at. He nodded and went to sit. I sat next to him, close enough for our shoulders to brush. "You okay?" John asked softly.

"Yes," I replied just as softly. John squinted at me for a moment before turning to glance around the large hall we were in. I laid my palms flat on my thighs with my fingertips resting at the tops of my knees and focused on my breathing. John glanced over at me and frowned. I ignored his look and watched the door Sherlock had disappeared behind.

A few moments of silence passed before the door opened and Sherlock's lean frame emerged. John and I stood as he approached. "Ready?" John asked.

"Yes," Sherlock responded before holding out his arm for me.

"Always the gentlemen," I said and rolled my eyes as I took it. I reached out and grabbed John's hand and twined my fingers in his as Sherlock took off for Court Ten. People shot us odd looks as we passed and I sighed. Sherlock smirked at me and I rolled my eyes at him. "You could tear them apart," I breathed at him. He snorted in response and his eyes turned back to scanning the hall full of people. We broke apart as we approached number Ten, and I gave Sherlock a two-fingered salute before heading up to the public gallery. John and I found our seats and I kept a tight hold of John's hand. John didn't show any signs of agitation, so I rested our laced fingers on the bench between us.

I was hardly paying attention to the case and absentmindedly drummed my fingers on my thigh, and I made sure I didn't look into the dock that held Jim. John was my total opposite. He was paying attention to every detail, and had proper posture. He would glance at me every time I sighed or fidgeted and give me a rueful smile. The wooden bench was murdering my lower back. Then, the most inaccessible spot on my back started to itch. I used my free hand to poke John's thigh. He looked over at me a quirked an eyebrow. "Itch my back?" I mouthed to him with a smirk. He rolled his eyes and sighed. He released my hand and reached up to scratch along my spine. I sighed happily and he dropped his hand.

The court recaptured my focus when Sherlock was called up. He gave his oath and began to present his evidence. "James Moriarty is for hire," Sherlock was saying.

"A tradesman?"

"Yes,"

"But not the sort who'd fix your heating,"

"No, the sort who'd plant a bomb or stage an assassination, but I'm sure he'd make a pretty decent job of your boiler," Sherlock replied. I stifled a giggle. "Would you describe him as…" she continued.

"Leading," he interrupted.

"What?"

"Can't do that. You're leading the witness. He'll object and the judge will uphold,"

"Mr. Holmes," the exasperated judge said.

"Ask me how. How would I describe him? What opinion have I formed of him? Do they not teach you this?"

"Mr. Holmes, we're fine without your help," the judge said.

"How would you describe this man- his character?" she sighed. I glanced up as a girl in a deerstalker walked in and took a seat. I narrowed my eyes at her before returning my gaze back to Sherlock. "First mistake," Sherlock said before locking his eyes on Jim. "James Moriarty isn't a man at all- he's a spider; a spider at the center of a web- a criminal web with a thousand threads and he knows how each and every single one dances."

"And how long…"

"No, no don't- don't do that. That's not a very good question,"

"Mr. Holmes," the judge said angrily.

"How long have I known him? Not really your best line of inquiry. We met twice, five minutes in total. I pulled a gun; he tried to blow me up. I felt we had a special something," Sherlock finished sarcastically.

"Miss Sorrel, are you seriously claiming the man is an expert, after knowing the accused for just five minutes?" the judge said.

"Two minutes would have made me an expert. Five was ample,"

"Mr. Holmes, that's a matter for the jury,"

"Oh, really?" Sherlock asked and shifted his gaze to the twelve in the box. John sighed and covered his face while I struggled to control my giggles. I took a few deep breaths and listened to Sherlock rapidly deduce the jury. "Mr. Holmes. You've been called here to answer Miss Sorrel's questions, not to give us a display of your intellectual prowess," the judge said angrily. Sherlock took a deep, pleased breath and I rolled my eyes. He was obviously preening after that compliment. "Keep your answers brief and to the point. Anything else will be treated as contempt. Do you think you could survive for just a few more minutes without showing off?" the judge scolded. Sherlock thought about the question for a moment before responding. I giggled as he was escorted out of the courtroom and John shot me a sideways glare.

It took three hours for them to release Sherlock. I grinned at him as he walked toward the desk to collect his things. "What did I say?" I sighed and leaned on the wall while he signed for his personal belongings.

"I can't just turn it off and on like a tap," Sherlock replied.

"I know, you git. But you could have toned it down, and you were preening at the judge's remark about your intellectual prowess. I saw it," I smirked.

"Where's John?" Sherlock asked and glanced around.

"Not sure, might've left us. Oh, how will we go on without our doctor?" I sighed. He smirked at me and held out an elbow after collecting his things. I took it and we made our way back out into the main hall. I sighed as we approached the door and were immediately bombarded with cameras. "Just leave us alone," I sighed and began to muscle through. The officers who had escorted us here were not kind enough to take us home. "I swear…." I grumbled as I pushed a camera out of my face. I released Sherlock to part the sea of people gathering and he latched onto my hip with his right hand. "Just get to the curb," Sherlock muttered. I gave him a brief nod and we continued forward. We reached the curb and Sherlock used his magical ability to hail a taxi while I shot furious glares at the reporters. The taxi pulled up and Sherlock jerked the door open. He tossed his belongings inside and hooked an arm around my waist. He pushed me inside and climbed in after me. "Baker Street," he called as he slammed the door shut.

"They are relentless," I sighed as I curled up on the seat. He wrapped an arm around my back and pulled me closer. "It wasn't so bad… seeing Jim," I said softly.

"He glanced at you eleven times during the proceedings," Sherlock replied.

"Fantastic," I sighed and rolled my eyes. "I want some ice cream."

"Mrs. Hudson has some in her freezer," he replied. I grinned and fiddled with the sleeve of my sweater. The taxi pulled to a stop outside of our building and Sherlock stepped out with his stack of belongings and held the door for me. I climbed out and dashed to the door to unlock it while Sherlock paid. "Hurry up," I called as I opened it. I could see the swarm of cameras and microphones approaching like bees. Sherlock ran to the door and inside while I slammed it shut behind him. "Ice cream?" I asked him. He nodded and made his way upstairs. I walked over to Mrs. Hudson's flat and knocked on the door.

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Half an hour later, Sherlock and I were occupying his chair and watching crap telly. I had changed into a pair of sweatpants and shirt while Sherlock was in his dressing gown. We had the tub of vanilla ice cream from Mrs. Hudson's flat and two spoons. I was lounging across his lap in the same manner as before, and the tub was on my stomach. "This is much better than silly court cases," I sighed. Sherlock remained silent, his eyes glued to the screen as he stuck his spoon in his mouth. I looked up as John appeared from his bedroom. "Hello," I said before shifting my gaze back to the telly.

"What are you doing?" John asked slowly.

"Eating Mrs. Hudson's ice cream and watching crap telly," I replied as I scooped out another spoonful. John nodded and walked over to his computer. "There's nothing to blog about, John," I called.

"I'm blogging about you two," John replied.

"Oh, really? In what manner would you like to die?" I said slowly.

"None particularly. It's nothing bad, I'm just talking about the man behind the hat and the girl everyone believes he's in love with," John sighed as he met my glare.

"You set the record straight," I muttered and stuck my spoon in my mouth. John sighed and began to type. Sherlock shifted beneath me and I glanced at him. "Your butt is rather boney," he muttered when he met my gaze. I smirked at him and wiped ice cream on his chin. He sighed and rubbed it off with the sleeve of his dressing gown. I glanced at my phone and sighed at the time. It was still too early in the evening to go to sleep. "I'm bored," I muttered.

"You ate ice cream for dinner and got to watch several hours of that awful show, how can you be bored?" John said without looking up from his computer. I sighed and dropped my spoon into the almost empty tub. "Shezza, would you like to bother Mycroft?" I said after her picked up the tub and set it on a nearby table with our spoons inside.

"As much as I adore irritating my older brother, I think he's had quite enough nonsense from you," Sherlock sighed. I giggled as I thought of all the things I had done. Dragged him to the cinema with me when John and Sherlock refused to go. Came over to his house at all hours of the night, the conventional way of course. We actually had many pleasant times when I would sit in his office, either on his desk or in the chair by the fire, while he conducted the many aspects of his work. He treated me kindly, and put up with all of my shenanigans in his home. I smiled and Sherlock quirked an eyebrow at me. "I think he enjoys my nonsense," I replied.

"He does. He would never admit it aloud," Sherlock replied with a smirk. I grinned at him and returned my attention to the telly.

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Six weeks after the first day of the trial, the jury had reached a verdict. John had insisted that I be there for it, and I dashed out of the courtroom as soon as I heard the phrase "Not guilty." I left John in my dust and whipped out my phone as I walked along the side of the road. I called Sherlock and he picked up after one ring. "Not guilty. They found him not guilty. No defence, and he's walked free," I said in greeting. There was no response. "Shezza, are you listening to me? He's walked free. He's going to be after you, and me possibly," I sighed.

"Don't come to Baker Street. Call Mycroft," Sherlock said and ended the call. I sucked in a deep breath and blew it out before calling the older Holmes brother. "Ms. McConnell," Mycroft greeted.

"Hello, Mycroft. Can you, uh, pick me up? I'm sure you've heard the verdict already. Sherlock told me to call you," I said carefully. I glanced around at my surroundings and sighed softly. "Stay where you are, I'll send Annette for you," Mycroft replied.

"Thank you," I sighed happily.

"You are welcome," Mycroft replied before hanging up. I typed a message to John after that

**Gone to Mycroft's. I'm safe. Sherlock is safe. Go have tea with your new girlfriend? **

I didn't have to wait long for his reply.

**If you're sure. **

I smiled and put my phone away just as a black government car pulled up to the curb. I opened the door and slid in next to Annette. She had dyed her hair a solid black color with blue undertones. The color was striking against her pallid complexion. "Hello gorgeous," I sighed and kissed her cheek.

"Hello," she said while her cheeks turned rosey.

"Love the new hair," I said and winked. She grinned back at me and fiddled with it for a moment. "I was thinking of cutting my hair short, something new," I said and fiddled with the end of my long braid.

"You would look beautiful with any hairstyle," she said with a small smile.

"Oh, ta," I replied with a smirk and a roll of my eyes. We pulled to a stop at Mycroft's home and Annette and I climbed out. I walked around the back of the car and wrapped an arm around her shoulder as we made our way inside. "Hungry?" I asked as we stepped into the entrance hall.

"Not particularly. I'm still working, and I don't think Mr. Holmes would appreciate me eating his food," Annette replied.

"He doesn't need it," I replied and headed for the kitchen with her in tow. "Where is Mr. Holmes?"

"I presume in his office," she replied. We entered the kitchen and I immediately set to work on making tea. Annette stepped up to do it for me, but I swatted at her. "I can make tea," I sighed. "You can stand there and look pretty." She rolled her eyes at me and I went to grab an apple. I quirked an eyebrow at her as I bit into the red fruit and waited for my tea. When it was finished I added sugar to it and lead the way out of the kitchen. "I'll see you around," I called as I made my way to Mycroft's office, leaving Annette behind.

I held my apple in my mouth as I knocked on the door, and entered when he replied. I he motioned for me to shut the door behind me, and I did. I approached his desk and slid a stack of paper out of the way so I could set my cup and apple down. "Hello, Mycroft Holmes," I said and smirked.

"Hello, Ms. McConnell," he replied and leaned back in his chair.

"Have you lost weight?" I asked and pointed a finger at him with a lopsided grin.

"I have. Ten pounds to be exact," he replied with a pleased expression.

"Sexy," I teased and picked up my apple to take a huge bite. He grimaced at me as I chewed and I rolled my eyes at him. "I change for no man or beast," I replied. I set the apple back down and went to grab one of the chairs by the table so I could move it across from his desk. I placed the chair down and sat with my feet propped up, carefully avoiding his meticulously stacked paper. "How is the Queen?" I asked with a smile.

"She is thriving," Mycroft replied stiffly.

"Marvelous," I sighed happily. I took a sip of my tea and watched him resume his work. We were silent for a few minutes, which was occasionally interrupted by me biting my apple. "Are you going to hire Pat? He's over here often enough," I asked in between bites.

"I have already offered a position to Mr. McConnell. He's currently doing leg work for me, and will return later this evening," Mycroft replied without looking up from his documents.

"Oh, well that is awfully kind," I said. I finished the edible parts of my apple and stood to dispose of the core. I then reclaimed the same position. I sighed softly and pulled out my phone. I had an unread message from Sherlock

**Moriarty has left. You may come home any time you choose. I have informed John as well. SH**

I typed a reply after a moment of thought

**Wonderful. He didn't hurt you. Hungry? **

**No. SH **

**Well I am, so ask John to decide about dinner when he gets back to Baker Street? **

**He has just arrived. SH **

I switched my phone off and set it on the edge of the desk. "I can go home anytime if I'm irritating you," I said tentatively.

"Do you wish to return to Baker Street?" Mycroft asked and looked up at me.

"I wish for something exciting to happen," I replied.

"The verdict on the case was not exciting," Mycroft assumed.

"Not especially," I sighed. "It was expected."

"I will allow Ms. Annette the rest of the evening off if you wish. You may go and do as you please," Mycroft said after a moment. A wide grin spread on my face and I stood from my chair. I picked it up and returned it to it's place and turned back to face Mycroft. "Thank you," I sighed happily.

"You are welcome," Mycroft replied slowly. I waved as I made my way out of his office. I walked down the hall and back into the entrance hall. "Annette," I called in a singsong voice.

"Yes, Jamie," she replied from the top of the stairs.

"Come along, we're going out," I said and cracked a grin. She smiled back at me and walked down the stairs. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"Back to Baker Street for dinner, and then we can go dancing," I suggested and tossed my arm around her shoulder. I tugged her along towards the car that Mycroft would have waiting for us. We stepped up to a black government car, and i opened the door for her. "So, kind," she said and climbed in. I climbed in next to her and shut the door. Annette instructed the driver to take us to Baker Street and I pulled out my phone to text John

**Returning to Baker Street and bringing Annette. **

His reply was moments later

**Right.**

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Two months passed uneventfully, and in relatively the same manner. I spent the weekends with Annette and sometimes John and one of his various girlfriends. We would go to the cinema or dancing or shopping. I tried to keep busy, because idle time was bad for me. I would begin to dwell on what Jim's master plans were. Sherlock never told me what he had said during their brief meeting. I didn't pester him on it. Sherlock would occasionally accompany me to art galleries or museums and spout random facts about every display we encountered. The flow of cases decreased dramatically, which was horrible for all of us. Sherlock was currently pacing around the flat waving the bow of his violin frantically. I was perched on the sofa watching him. "Shezza, what do you need?" I sighed.

"I need a case," he said through his teeth.

"Well, I apologize. Is there anything else?" I suggested carefully.

"Cigarettes," he replied.

"No," I said and pointed a finger at him. "We have been clean for months. No relapse. You are doing just fine."

"I need them," he almost shouted and turned to face me.

"You do not, now relax," I sighed. He walked over to me and slumped down on the sofa at my feet. His head wound up pooled on my stomach and his feet stuck straight up into the air. I smiled softly and brushed my fingers through his wild curls. "Better," I muttered. I continued to brush his hair and looked up when his phone rang. It continued to ring and I sighed. "Where is it?" I said.

"Pocket," he mumbled into my stomach. I rolled my eyes and dug it out of his dressing gown pocket to answer it. "Speak and be heard," I said.

"Where's Sherlock?" Greg's voice said.

"Right here," I replied. "He's busy. What is it?"

"There's been a kidnapping. We're on our way to your flat," he replied after a sigh.

"Mrs. Hudson will let you in," I replied before ending the call. I set his phone down and told Sherlock what Greg told me. I continued to brush his hair for several minutes and his breathing became deep and even. "Are you asleep?" I whispered.

"No," he mumbled. I huffed and listened to Mrs. Hudson greet someone at the door. "Not Lestrade," Sherlock mumbled.

"If you would give me a chance," I whined. He chuckled and nuzzled his face into me. "Cozy?" I sighed.

"Yes, thank you," he muttered. I smiled and traced his cheekbones with my finger. They were so prominent, and his pale skin made them stand out even more. He sighed contentedly under my gentle touch and angled his face into it.


	21. Chapter 21

**Hey everyone! I'd really like some more reviews because they let me know if you guys are enjoying this or not. If you spot anything wrong, grammar or continuity or whatever, let me know. Thanks! **

Chapter 21

Lestrade arrived a little over twenty minutes after he had called. Mrs. Hudson let them in and I listened to the sound of two set of footsteps climbing the stairs. "He brought Donovan," I sighed. I watched the staircase through the open door and Sherlock sighed softly into my stomach. Greg appeared first and lifted an eyebrow when he saw us. Donovan walked in behind him and smirked at us. "Hello, Greg," I sighed. Sherlock remained silent. "You might as well speak, he's always listening," I said and waved my hand at him.

"Rufus Bruhl's children have been kidnapped. Aged seven and nine. They were take from St. Aldate'. The Ambassador's asked for you personally," Greg began after a heavy silence. Sherlock's eyes opened with an excited gleam and he immediately extracted himself from me to pace around. I stood as well and fixed my skewed button up shirt to cover my chest better. I looked over when John walked into the flat. "What's going on?" he asked when he saw us.

"Kidnapping," I replied with a happy tone. Sherlock walked over to the table and sat at the computer. He began typing as he explained the case to John. I casually made my way back to Sherlock's room, but I could feel Donovan's eyes on me. I left the door open as I hunted down my jeans and switched out my cotton shorts for them. I grabbed a pair of socks and slipped them on my feet as I walked back to the group of people crowding the living room. Sherlock was waiting at the end of the hall for me, and held out my blue trainers and coat. "Ta," I said with a smirk. He waited for me to pull those on and then grabbed my hand and dragged me down the stairs.

We arrived at St. Aldate's and saw two police cars already parked outside. Sherlock climbed out and turned to help me out of the car, before turning and heading toward the woman leaning against the bonnet of one of the cars. I hung back from the group and Donovan sidled up beside me. "What do you need?" I sighed and stuffed my hands in my pockets as I watched Sherlock question the crying women.

"Rumor is that you and Sherlock are dating," she began.

"Well, even if that were true, that wouldn't be any of your business regardless. So go on and scrub Anderson's floors some more," I said and glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. "Everyone knows." She shot me a glare but remained stubbornly beside me. Sherlock placed his hands gently on the sobbing woman's shoulders after verbally abusing her, and then turned and walked away. I moved to follow and Donovan followed. "Don't you have a job? And responsibilities? Because I'm sure there's something you could be doing. Like going away," I asked as we stepped into the building. "Because if you don't, John isn't here to stop me. He's off chasing after Sherlock." I grinned at her and studied her facial expression. She huffed and turned to walk away. I smirked in triumph and went to find my boys.

I found them in the boy's bedroom, and Sherlock was shining an ultraviolet light on the wall. The words "help us" were written there. "Linseed oil," Sherlock said.

"Not much use, doesn't lead us to the kidnapper," Anderson said.

"Brilliant, Philip," I said in a singsong voice, popping the 'p's. I stepped up beside him with my arms behind my back. "Really?" he said, perplexed.

"Yes. Brilliant impersonation of an idiot," I replied. I turned to follow Sherlock as he shined the line along the floor. A trail of footprints lead out of the room. "Brilliant little boy," I sighed happily. "He was forced ahead of the kidnapper." Sherlock nodded at me. "On, what, tiptoe?" John said.

"Indicates anxiety; a gun held to his held to his head, most likely," I replied and studied the footprints beside Sherlock. We moved into the corridor, which had also been blackened, following the trail. "The girl was pulled beside him, dragged sideways. He had his left arm cradled around her neck," Sherlock pointed out. We continued on to the end of the trail. "That's the end of it. We don't know where they went from here," Anderson said from behind us. I rolled my eyes. "Tells us nothing after all," Anderson finished.

"You're right, Anderson- nothing," Sherlock said. I grinned at what was coming. Sherlock sucked in a deep breath and said rapidly, "Except his shoe size, his height, his gait, his walking pace." Sherlock stood and ripped down the blackout material, flooding the corridor with light. He kneeled back down and handed me a Petri dish from his pocket. I opened it and held it out while he scraped wood from the floor. Sherlock chuckled contentedly and John squatted beside us. "Having fun, you two?"

"Undeniably so," I replied with a pleased grin. Sherlock mirrored my smile at the floor. "Maybe don't do the smiling?" John suggested. I quirked an eyebrow at him and Sherlock looked up. "Kidnapped children?" John prompted. I sighed and shifted my gaze back to the floor as Sherlock began placing little bits of dried oil in the dish I held.

We caught a taxi to St. Bart's, and I had my knees tucked up to my chin for the duration of the ride, thinking about the new case. "How did he get past the CCTV?" I thought aloud. "He couldn't have just walked in."

"Anyone can walk in anywhere if they pick the right moment. Yesterday- end of term, parents milling around, chauffeurs, staff. What's one more stranger among the lot?" Sherlock replied. "He was waiting for them. All he had to do was find a place to hide." I pictured the scene in my head and watched the faceless man walk into the building. People milling about paid him no mind. I sighed unhappily and thought of the children. The little boy was so unbelievably smart, leaving those clues for us. I pictured him struggling with the man, trying to protect his sister. John watched me as my facial expressions shifted as I thought. I focused on him and forced a smile before turning to stare out of the window.

We arrived at St. Bart's and made our way down the the lab. "Molly!" Sherlock said happily as we walked through the door just as she was leaving.

"Oh, hello, I'm just going out," she said and gave a hesitant smile.

"No you're not," he replied and placed his hands on her shoulders to spin her around. John and I followed as we began walking down the hallway. "I've got a lunch date," Molly protested.

"Cancel it. You're having lunch with me," he replied and placed a hand on her back to keep her moving forward.

"What?" she sighed.

"Need your help," he replied. We walked through the fire doors at the end of the hall and towards the lab. I stuffed my hands in my pocket and gazed around the corridor as we walked. My stomach was twisting in knots with worry for the children. I tried not to imagine what the man was doing to them. I knew Jim was behind it, but he was a spider at the center of the web. He would never do any footwork. He hired this man to take these children. I swallowed thickly and followed Sherlock into the lab as John held the door. I immediately made my way to the other side of the lab and sat on a stool. I hunched over like a vulture with my face in my hands as I fought against the scenarios in my brain. If this case didn't involve children, I'd be fine.

John disappeared to pick up chips for us and bring them back, and I sulked in the corner as Sherlock and Molly worked on the Linseed Oil samples. I blocked out their quiet conversation and laid my head on the table in front of me. I sighed softly. "You okay?" Molly's quiet voice sounded from behind me. I opened my eyes and tilted my head to look at her. "I'm fine, just… worried is all. The children," I sighed. Molly looked at me with pity before placing a hand between my shoulderblades. "You and Sherlock will find them. No need to worry," Molly insisted. I smiled at her briefly and she nodded before turning to get back to work.

John returned and I sat up to watch him enter the lab. He gave Molly her order and made his way over to me. "I'm not hungry, John," I sighed and rubbed my face. My head was aching with the onslaught of thoughts. John frowned at me and went back over to the stack of photos he had set up. I sat for a moment before sliding down off the stool and walking to Molly's office. I grabbed the tennis ball she had in there and went to sit on the floor. "Chalk, Asphalt, Brick dust, Vegetation, and a glycerol molecule," Sherlock told me as I walked by. I hummed at him and sat on the floor to throw the tennis ball at the opposite wall. I caught bits and pieces of their conversation as I threw the ball. "That's 'Hansel and Gretel'. What sort of kidnapper leaves clues?" John said.

"The sort that likes to boast; the sort that thinks it's all a game," Sherlock replied. "He sat in our flat and said these exact words to me… All fairytales need a good old-fashioned villain." I caught the ball and held it as I thought. "He's our villain. Our wicked witch," I mumbled. I threw the ball hard and it gave a satisfying crack before bouncing back to me. Everyone turned to look at me, and I smiled at them. "The glycerol molecule you told me about. What was the witch's house made of?" I prompted. Sherlock smiled and his eyes lit up in realization. "PGPR!" He said.

"What?" John asked.

"It's used in making chocolate," Sherlock said. He leapt up and walked over to pull me to my feet. "Oi!" I protested. He wrapped an arm around my waist and forced me from the lab. I threw the ball to Molly as we passed and John trailed after us.

We took a taxi to Scotland Yard and immediately headed to Greg's office. Sherlock walked with his hand on my shoulder, guiding me along, while John trailed behind us. Greg found us in the department's main office and handed Sherlock a sheet of paper. "This arrived in the fax an hour ago," Greg said. Sherlock read the paper and handed it to me. In large, handwritten letters it read "Hurry up. They're dying." I frowned and handed it to John. "What have you got for us?" Greg asked.

"We need to find a place where all five of these things intersect," Sherlock said and handed Greg a sheet of paper with the list of substances. Greg read them allowed. "I think we're looking for a disused sweet factory," Sherlock said. He released my shoulder and turned to face me. He stared at my face for a moment as he thought. "We need to narrow that down. A sweet factory with asphalt?" Greg said.

"No. No-no-no. Too general. Need something more specific," I said.

"Chalk; chalky clay- that's a far thinner band of geology," Sherlock supplied.

"Brick dust?" Greg said.

"Building site. Bricks from the nineteen-fifties,"Sherlock said.

"There's thousands of building sites in London," Greg said in despair, rubbing his face.

"I've got people out looking," Sherlock replied without breaking eye contact with me. He was concentrating very hard, and I gave him a small smile. "So have I," Greg insisted.

"Homeless network- much faster," I replied with a smirk at Greg.

"Faster than the police. And far nicer about taking bribes," Sherlock continued. I smiled at him and patted his cheek. Sherlock's phone announced the flooding of several texts and he grabbed it and began reading them. "Jamie, John," Sherlock said and held out a picture of purple flowers. "Rhododendron ponticum. It matches." He looked up in thought for a moment. "Addlestone," he said.

"What?" Greg said.

"There's a mile of disused factories between the river and the park. It matches everything," Sherlock said. I grinned openly at him. He grabbed my hand and I grabbed John's as Sherlock swept out of the room. We hurried out of the building with Greg's team following us.

We walked into the dark building and Sherlock handed me his flashlight, I smiled at him and grabbed his hand to head farther into the building. I could hear Donovan directing the search behind us but I didn't care. "We have to find them," I muttered and waved the flashlight around as we moved into the building. Sherlock gripped my hand tightly and slowed me down. "We can't scare them," he hissed. I nodded and slowed my steps. We turned a corner and found a candle and a pile of wrappers. I released Sherlock to crouch down and touch the candle. "They're still here," I called. "This was lit moments ago." Sherlock crouched beside me and inspect the wrappers. "Sweet wrappers. What's he been feeding you?" he said softly. I pointed the flashlight at the one he picked up to inspect. "Hansel and Gretel," he added as an afterthought. He sniffed it and then touched his tongue to it. He grimaced at the taste and held it out to look at it. "Mercury," he said.

"Oh, God," I whined softly.

"The papers: they're painted with mercury," Sherlock said to the group that was watching us. John groaned as well. "Lethal. The more of the stuff they ate…" he said.

"It's what's killing them," John cut in.

"But it's not enough to kill them alone. Taken in large enough quantities, it would eventually kill them," Sherlock finished.

"He wouldn't need to be there for the execution. Murder by remote control. He could be a thousand miles away," I said softly my eyes locked on the wrappers.

"The hungrier they got, the more they ate…. the faster they died," Sherlock said softly. I was in awed silence before I heard him murmur, "Neat."

"Sherlock," John scolded.

"Over here!" Donovan's voice rang out. We all ran towards her voice and she reassured them softly. My worry dissipated greatly when I saw them both alive. They were dirty and the boy looked terribly sick.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was nighttime, and Sherlock and I were standing by the window in Scotland Yard. I bumped my shoulder with his, but he remained in stony silence. We didn't even get a chance to question Claudette. She began screaming when she saw Sherlock. I bumped his shoulder again and he looked at me. "You saved them, don't forget that. Ever," I said softly. I could hear John and Lestrade speaking behind us, and I knew Sherlock was listening so I didn't bother. I looked back at them though, and saw Donovan watching us thoughtfully. Lestrade lead John from the room after a few moments, and I turned back to the window. I listened to Donovan's soft footsteps behind us. "Brilliant work you did, finding those kids from just a footprint. It's really amazing," she said as she stood behind us.

"Thank you," Sherlock said without looking at her.

"Unbelievable," she continued pointedly. I frowned and brushed my fingertips through my hair nervously. Sherlock turned away from the window and walked towards the door. I stood for a moment and leveled a glare at Donovan. She stared back at me innocently, and I turned to catch up to Sherlock.

We stepped outside and I grabbed his forearm as we approached John. "We'll be home soon," I called and pulled Sherlock down the sidewalk. He silently protested against my grip on his arm. "Come on, Shezza," I sighed.

"Where?" he asked softly.

"Here," I said and turned down a side street. I stopped and dropped his arm to leaned on the wall of the building. "There's something you're not telling me," I said.

"No," he replied.

"Sherlock, I've known you for months. You boast and flaunt your knowledge," I said and placed a hand on his chest.

"It's not important," he murmured.

"It's okay that you don't want to tell me. I just want to know one thing. Are you safe?" I said slowly and carefully.

"No," he replied softly enough that I struggled to hear him. I nodded and pulled him closer. He stepped forward reluctantly until we were chest to chest. "Do you need anything?" I asked quietly. He remained silent, watching me with a blank expression. I frowned at him and slid my hands up to cup the back of his neck. He let his hands grab my waist hesitantly and tilted his head towards me slightly. I pushed up on my tiptoes and pressed my lips to his, holding him close. He kissed back immediately, his thumbs rubbing circles over my hipbones. "Stop, that tickles," I said against his lips. He smiled and pulled my hips against his. He was warm and his lips were soft against mine. I trailed my fingertips along his coat covered chest and he shivered under my touch. I broke away suddenly and leaned my head against the wall. He stared back at me with an unsure expression. "We-we should stop," I said softly. He frowned and nodded. He leaned forward to press his lips to mine for a moment before turning away. He walked along the street and hailed a taxi for himself. I watched him go before following to grab one of my own.

I was staring thoughtfully out of the window when three gunshots rang out. "Stop!" I shouted. The taxi squealed to a stop and I threw a wad of cash at him as I ran passed. "Sherlock!" I shouted as I spotted him, of course he would be caught in this. He watched me approach with wide eyes. "Are you hurt?" I asked fearfully as I brushed my hands over his cheeks.

"No," he replied. I pulled him forward and wrapped my arms around him in a hug. He hesitantly returned it as the ambulances began pulling up. "He died because I shook his hand," Sherlock said softly.

"What?" I squeaked.

"He saved my life, but he couldn't touch me. Why?" he said and released me to storm off. I chased after him as the man's body was wheeled into one of the ambulances. We walked the last leg to Baker Street and Sherlock ran upstairs. I followed him and slipped my jacket off as I climbed the stairs. He was already climbing on the furniture talking about dust. I placed a hand on Mrs. Hudson's shoulder and watched Sherlock quietly. "Dust is eloquent," he said. He climbed on more furniture to look at the bookshelves. "Cameras. We're being watched," Sherlock said.

"What? Cameras?," Mrs. Hudson said and cringed. "I'm in my nightie." The doorbell rang and Mrs. Hudson hurried out of the room with John. I walked over to the mantle and picked up Billy the skull after Sherlock check his eye sockets. I cradled it in my hands and watched Sherlock inspect the room. Sherlock revealed a camera on one of the bookshelves just as Greg walked into the room. "No, inspector," Sherlock said without looking at him.

"What?"

"The answer's no," he said, stepping down from the piece of furniture he was standing on, the camera in his fingers.

"But you haven't heard the question!"

"You want to take me down to the station. Just saving you the trouble of asking," Sherlock said as he stepped up beside me. I maneuvered Billy in my fingers nervously as I listened to the conversation. "Sherlock…" Greg began.

"The scream?"

"Yes,"

"Who was it? Donovan? I bet it was Donovan. Am I somehow responsible for the kidnapping? Ah, Moriarty is smart. He planted that doubt in her head; that little nagging sensation. You're gonna have to be strong to resist it. You can't kill an idea, can you? Not once it's made home…" Sherlock reached up to place an index finger on Greg's forehead. "There."

"Will you come?" Greg asked. Sherlock turned to sit at the computer. He began to type as I perched on the table beside him, still clutching Billy in my fingers. Nerves twisted in my stomach. "One photograph- that's his next move. Moriarty's game: first the scream, then a photograph of me being taken in for questioning. He wants to destroy me inch by inch," Sherlock said. I set Billy on the table beside me and placed my hands on my thighs. Sherlock looked away and said, "Give my regards to Sergeant Donovan." Greg turned to leave and I let out a sigh. "They'll be deciding," Sherlock said.

"Deciding what?" John asked.

"Whether to come back with a warrant and arrest me,"

"You think?"

"Standard procedure,"

"Should have gone with him. People will think…" John said and trailed off. Sherlock looked up at him. "That I am what?" he prompted.

"A fraud," John said slowly. Sherlock rolled his eyes and sat in his seat. I stood from my spot on the table and went to sit in John's chair. "You're worried they're right," Sherlock said, glancing at both of us.

"What?" I said, bewildered.

"You both are worried they're right about me,"

"No," John said, sitting on the arm of his chair.

"That's why you're so upset, both of you. You can't even entertain the possibility that they may be right. You're afraid that you've been taken in as well," Sherlock continued.

"No, we're not," I insisted.

"Moriarty is playing with your minds, too," Sherlock said. He slammed his hand on the table angrily. "Can't you see what's going on?"

"Sherlock, I know you are for real. John and I have both seen it," I said. John nodded beside me. "A hundred percent?" Sherlock asked.

"Well nobody could fake being such an annoying dick all of the time," John muttered. Sherlock's mouth twitched in a small smile and John looked away from him and out of the window once more. I drummed my fingertips on my thighs nervously. My skin was prickling with constant anxiety. I knew something was coming, the end of the game. I was completely terrified by the outcome. John stood and headed into the kitchen and I curled up in the chair, my head resting on the back. Sherlock stared out of the window thoughtfully.

John's phone rang and he answered it as he was walking back into the living room. He spoke into it for a moment before lowering it and stuffing it in his pocket. "So, still got some friends in the force. It's Lestrade. Says they're all coming over here right now, queueing up to slap on the handcuffs: every officer you've ever made feel like a tit, which is a lot of people," John said. I looked up at him and sucked in a quick breath. Mrs. Hudson knocked on the closed door and enters after announcing her presence. "Ooh, sorry, am I interrupting?" she said. Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked at me. I frowned back at him before mouthing "I'm coming with you." He sighed and rolled his eyes before nodding at me. Mrs. Hudson handed John a parcel saying she had to sign for it. Seeing the wax seal, we both stood to see it better. John opened it and held up a gingerbread man. "Burnt to a crisp," he said.

I listened to the sirens of several different police cars approaching and they all stopped outside of our building. "What does it mean?" I said, referring to the burnt gingerbread man. Someone pounded on the front door and shout that they were the police. Mrs. Hudson scurried off to answer it and I turned to John. "Stay with Mrs. Hudson. She'll need you. I'll stay with Sherlock. Trust me," I hissed at him. He closed his eyes and nodded. Sherlock turned to pick up his scarf and loop it around his neck as John disappeared out of the flat. I locked eyes with him and flashed a smirk. Sherlock pulled his coat on as the officers barged in. He turned around and they slapped handcuffs on his wrists. Greg read him his rights while Sherlock kept his gaze on mine. I nodded to him and smiled briefly. "Sherlock Holmes, I'm arresting you on suspicion of kidnapping and abduction," Greg said.

"He's not resisting," I cut in when they yanked his arm too hard.

"It's all right, Jamie," Sherlock said calmly. Greg ordered the officer to escort Sherlock downstairs. "Greg, you don't have to do…" I began angrily.

"Don't try to interfere, or I shall arrest you, too," Greg said, stepping into my personal space. He turned to leave and I glared after him. "You done?" John asked Donovan.

"Oh, I said it," she taunted.

"Mm-hmm?"

"First time we met,"

"Don't bother,"

"'Solving crimes won't be enough. One day he'll cross the line'. Now ask yourself: what sort of man would kidnap those kids just so he could impress us by finding them?" she continued. I breathed slowly, my hands balling into fists. The chief Inspector walked in and spoke to Donovan. "Got our man?" he asked.

"Er, yes, sir,"

"Looks like a bit of a weirdo if you ask me," he said. I turned toward him, my rage building. "Often are, these vigilante types," he continued, against his better judgement. I took deep breaths my rage burning deep inside. I was beyond angry, completely irrational. The chief inspector glanced around the room before looking at me. "What are you looking at?" he said indignantly. That tipped the scales. Shattered the dams holding in the tidal wave of rage. I lunged toward him my right fist swinging towards his face. I held myself back at the point of impact, still effectively breaking his nose, but not killing him. John lunged out for me and wrapped his arms around me as I began screaming at him. "How dare you?" I screeched. Donovan smirked and turned toward me with her handcuffs. She motioned for John to spin me around. "Go ahead," I said through my teeth, watching the blood drip satisfyingly from the Chief Inspector's face. Donovan wrapped the handcuffs around my wrists and grabbed my right bicep. "Bye, John," I called as she tugged me out of the flat.

She slammed me against the police car to the left of Sherlock and I grunted. Sherlock looked at me with amusement. "Joining me?" he asked.

"I said I would, git," I said with a grin. "Apparently its against the law to chin the Chief Superintendent." A few officers stepped up behind us and removed my handcuffs so they could link us together. "Hmm, bit awkward, this," Sherlock said softly to me.

"Linked together? Awkward. I distinctly remember you exchanging oh so precious DNA with me not too long ago," I teased back softly. His cheeks turned a pale pink and my mouth popped open in surprise. "Sherlock Holmes, an emotional reaction," I scoffed softly. He rolled his eyes at me. "Now on to our daring escape," Sherlock said. He glanced down at the radio inside the open window of the car and reached with his free hand to press a button. The officers behind us doubled over in pain as the squeal of feedback ripped through it. Sherlock reached for the pistol and raised it in the air in his right hand, raising mine as well. "Ladies and gentleman. will you please get on your knees?" Sherlock called to the surrounding officers. He pointed it at the nearest officers and nobody moved. "Now would be a good time," He shouted and fired two shots into the air. He pointed it at the officers again. "Do as he says!" Greg shouted.

"My lovely hostage," Sherlock said and aimed the gun at my head. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as we began backing away. We continued backing away, and slowly rounded a corner. "What now?" I asked softly.

"Doing what Moriarty wants. I'm becoming a fugitive- Run!" Sherlock answered. We began sprinting down the street and I had to work twice as hard to keep up with his longer stride. He loosed the chain of the handcuff around his wrist and shouted, "Take my hand!" I clasped our fingers together and continued to run. "Now people will definitely talk!" I called. Sirens approached ahead of us and Sherlock swerved to the left, dropping the gun in the process. "The gun!" I called.

"Leave it!" Sherlock shouted back as we continued on. We ran towards a fence and Sherlock jumped on a dustbin and over it. I wasn't as strong or agile so I was dragged into the fence when Sherlock landed on the other side. My shoulder was wrenched painfully and I glared at him. I reached through the fence and grabbed a handful of his coat, dragging him against the fence, against me. "We need to coordinate," I said, staring into his eyes. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his briefly before leaning back again. "Go to your right," Sherlock ordered.

"What?" I sighed.

"Go to your right," he repeated. I looked up and stretched onto my tiptoes to move the chain. We continued all the way to the pile of dustbins and I stared at him. "I'll give you a leg up," He sighed and reached his free arm out. I looked at it doubtfully. "Hurry up," Sherlock ordered. I sighed and stepped on his forearm as lightly as I could and scrambled on to the dustbin. I grabbed the top of the fence and hoisted myself of on top. Sherlock watched me jump down before heading on down the alley. We leaned on the wall at the end as a police car raced passed. "Stop looking at me like that," I sighed, sucking in deep breaths.

"You kissed me. That's the fifth time we've kissed," Sherlock muttered.

"Do you want me to stop?"I asked my gaze shifting up to his face.

"No," he muttered softly. I smirked at him and looked out at the street. "Everybody wants to believe it," Sherlock began. "That's what makes it so clever. A lie that's preferable to the truth. All my brilliant deductions were just a sham. No one feels inadequate- Sherlock Holmes is just an ordinary man." I frowned at him. He looked away bitterly. "Maybe Mycroft could help us," I suggested. Sherlock dragged me across the alley to peer down the street, and I grunted. He gave me a confused look. "You wrenched my shoulder jumping that fence," I muttered quietly. He hummed and pushed me forward so he could yank my shirt open and peer at it. His fingers probed gently and I hissed when he touched a sore spot. "A family reconciliation? Now's not really the moment," Sherlock muttered as he began rubbing his fingers in small circles over the sore muscle. I bit my lip to keep from crying out. I looked down at the end of the alley and saw a face watching us. "Shezza," I muttered as he worked. "We're being followed."


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

"It's not the police. It's one of our new neighbors at Baker Street," I said softly. Sherlock grabbed my hand and pulled me down another alley where we slammed against another building. He fixed my skewed shirt and glanced around. "Let's see if he can give us some answers," Sherlock muttered. "We're going to jump in front of that bus."

"What?" I screeched. Sherlock dragged me out into the street in front of the bus, and we stood completely still. The assassin darted out into the road and slammed into us, throwing us out of the way. I cried out when my sore shoulder slammed into the ground, but Sherlock was already busy apprehending the assassin. "Tell me what you want from me," Sherlock insisted. The man stared back wide-eyed. "Tell me," Sherlock repeated.

"He left it at your flat,"

"Who?"

"Moriarty,"

"What?" Sherlock asked. We all began to climb to our feet. "The computer keycode," the assassin replied.

"Of course. He's selling it- the programme he used to break into the Tower. He planted it when he came around," Sherlock said, his gun still trained on the man. Three gunshots rang out and the man dropped dead. Sherlock turned to stare where the bullets came from, but i grabbed his hand and yanked him after me. I spotted an open doorway and pulled him inside just as a police car raced passed. "It's a game changer. It's a key- it can break into any system and it's sitting in our flat right now. That's why he left that message. 'Get Sherlock'. We need to get back into the flat and search," Sherlock said as we caught our breath once more.

"CID'll be camped out. Why plant it on you?" I said and peered at him carefully.

"It's another subtle way of smearing my name. Now I'm best pals with all those criminals," Sherlock replied. I glanced around and spotted a pile of newspapers I walked over to them and picked up the one on top. "Yeah, well, have you seen this?" I asked and held out a copy of _The Sun_ to him.

"A kiss and tell. Some bloke called Rich Brook," I said slowly. "Who is he?" I peered at the paper and skimmed through the article once more.

"Come on," Sherlock said and grabbed my hand. He pulled me down the street and turned to the left. I dropped the newspaper onto another stack and worked on catching my breath. My shoulder ached fiercely and I reached up my free hand to rub at it. "I am sorry," Sherlock said and glanced out of the corner of his eye at me.

"It's all right," I replied softly. He pulled me to a building and Sherlock picked the lock easily. We stepped into the darkened room and Sherlock gestured to the sofa. I sat down and he sat beside me, our fingers still laced together. "This is Kitty Riley's flat. She should arrive in a few minutes," Sherlock said softly.

"How do you know?"

"I saw her in her car," Sherlock replied. I nodded and released his fingers. I popped the knuckles on my handcuffed hand and then drummed my fingertips on my thigh. True to his word, Kitty opened the door a few minutes later. Sherlock looked up at her and said, "Too late to go on the record?" She stared back at him in shock for a few seconds before stepping farther inside. She slowly shut the door. "Do you have a hairpin?" I asked and gave her a winning smile. She nodded and reached up to pull one out of her hair. She held it out and I stood, dragging Sherlock along. "You talk, I've got this," I said and wiggled my fingers at her. I tilted my wrist and stuck the hairpin into the lock, carefully moving it around. "Congratulations. The truth about Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock said to Kitty. I freed myself and grabbed his wrist. I flipped it over and stuck the pin in his lock as well. "The scoop that everybody wanted and you got. Bravo!" Sherlock said.

"I gave you your opportunity. I wanted to be on your side, remember? You turned me down, so…."

"And then, behold, someone turns up and spills all the beans. How utterly convenient, who is Brook?" Sherlock asked. I glanced up to see her shake her head before returning back to the handcuff. It finally clicked open and I freed his wrist. I set the handcuffs on the table near me and placed the pin beside it. "Oh, come on, Kitty. No one trusts the voice at the end of the telephone," Sherlock said as I did so. I turned back around to stand beside him. Sherlock went on to speak about Brook's credentials, but I was more focused on the sounds of someone entering the building. The door unlocked and someone stepped inside and said, "Darling, they didn't have any ground coffee so I just got normal…" He looked up and stared at Sherlock with terror. It was Jim. He was wearing casual clothing with unkempt hair and an unshaven face. I sucked in a deep breath as he dropped the shopping bag and backed into the wall. "You said they wouldn't find me here. You said I'd be safe," he cried in a quaking voice, his hands up for protection.

"You are safe, Richard. I'm a witness. He wouldn't harm you in front of witnesses," Kitty said to him in a soothing voice. I slowly pointed at him and turned to look at Kitty. "So this is your source. Moriarty is Richard Brook," I said.

"Of course he's Richard Brook. There is no Moriarty. There never has been," Kitty said. I let my arm fall and rubbed my hands on my face. "What are you talking about?" I groaned.

"Look him up. Rich Brook- an actor Sherlock Holmes hired to be Moriarty," Kitty said. I shifted a furious glare at Jim and balled my hands into fists. Sherlock watched me for a moment before he too shifted his gaze to Jim. "You are Moriarty. You had Ethan take me, chain me to a wall. I was stabbed thirteen times. Thirteen. I haven't slept right for months. And you're going to tell me it was all Sherlock's doing. I don't fucking believe you," I seethed. Jim held his hands up in terror. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. You have to believe me. He hired me. I needed the money. I was out of work. I'm an actor. I'm sorry, okay?" he whimpered. I shifted my gaze to Sherlock and he locked eyes with me immediately. "Explain," I demanded.

"Oh, I'll be doing the explaining. In print," Kitty said and held out a folder to me. I shifted my gaze to her and forced myself the calmy take it. I opened it slowly and glanced through the documents. Kitty looked back at Sherlock and said, "You invented James Moriarty, your nemesis."

"Invented him?" I asked slowly.

"Mm-hmm. Invented all the crimes, actually- and to cap it all you made a master villain," Kitty said.

"Don't be ridiculous!" I scoffed. Kitty turned and pointed at Jim. "Ask him, just ask him," she said.

"He was on trial," I said.

"Yes, and Sherlock promised to rig the jury if he took the rap," Kitty said. "Not exactly a West End role, but I bet the money was good." She walked over to Jim and tossed an arm around his shoulder. "But not so good he didn't want to sell his story," she said to me casually.

"I'm so sorry," Jim said, raising his hands pleadingly.

"So this is the end, Moriarty's an actor?" I said and shook my head in disbelief.

"He knows I am. Show her something, anything," Jim said. Kitty walked across the room and rifled through a stack of papers. I sucked in two deep breaths, my rage slowly dissipating. Kitty turned back and handed another folder to me. I opened it and skimmed through the documents inside once more. "I'm on TV. Kid's TV. I'm The Storyteller," Jim said behind me. "I'm.. I'm the Storyteller. It's on DVD," Jim continued. I shut the folder and watched Jim plead with Sherlock to reveal the truth. Sherlock advanced on him and Jim began to shout frantically before dashing up the short flight of stairs and into the bathroom. Sherlock struggled with the door for a moment, which gave Jim enough time to climb out of the window. I turned to dash out of the flat, but Sherlock caught my arm. "He'll have backup. It's useless," Sherlock said.

"Okay," I sighed. Sherlock nodded and guided me towards the door with a hand on the small of my back. We walked out of the building and onto the street. Sherlock dropped his hand to pace rapidly. "Can he do that? Change his entire identity?" I asked.

"He's got my whole life story. That's what you do when you sell a big lie; you wrap it up in the truth to make it more palatable," Sherlock replied.

"Your word against his," I said and rubbed my hands on my face.

"He's been sowing doubt in people's minds for the past twenty-four hours. There's only one thing he needs to do to complete his game, and that's to…" he cut off suddenly and fell silent.

"Shezza," I asked softly.

"There's something I need to do," Sherlock replied.

"Can I help?"

"No, on my own. Call Mycroft, tell him to take you home. The taxis don't come around here often," Sherlock said before turning to walk away.

"Wait!" I called and dashed after him. I grabbed his arm and spun him around into a hug. He hugged me back and shivered when I rubbed my fingers along his spine. "Call Mycroft," Sherlock said and released me abruptly. He turned and walked briskly away. I pulled out my phone and called the elder Holmes brother.

When I arrived, John walked out of the building to meet me. I handed him the file and explained everything that had happened as fast I could. John nodded and we climbed back into the car. We made our way to the Diogenes Club and John climbed out. He went to help me out, but I shook my head at him. "I'm just going to stay here. Maybe sleep a bit?" I said. He frowned at me before shutting the door. I turned to look at the driver. He was an older gentleman with graying hair and a strong jawline. "Do you mind if I just stay? You can go off and do your business," I said and flashed a smile.

"Anything for Mr. Holmes's personal favorite," the man replied with a smile.

"Am not," I muttered and let my eyes fall. I curled up on the seat and fell into an uneasy sleep.

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We finished at the Diogenes Club, and the driver was kind enough to drive us to St. Bart's. John helped me out of the car and helped me into the building. I yawned loudly as we walked down to the lab. Sherlock looked up when we stepped inside. "Got your message," John said.

"The computer code is the key. If we find it, we can use it- beat Moriarty at his own game," Sherlock replied.

"Use it?" I asked and rubbed my hands on my face, trying to wake up.

"He used it to create a false identity, so we can use it to break the records and destroy Richard Brook," Sherlock explained.

"And bring Moriarty back again," John said excitedly. Sherlock stood and started muttering. John walked towards where Sherlock was leaning on the counter and mirrored his position. I smirked slightly and shuffled over to the stool I sat down and leaned my head on my fist as I watched them think aloud. I watched John walk away in frustration and Sherlock turned away from both of us. I peered at him before shifting my gaze to John, who was rubbing his hands on his face.

An hour later, I found myself sitting next to John who was fast asleep with his head on his arms on the counter. I looked down the counter at Sherlock, who was rolling the ball around. He looked up at me, lost in thought before turning away again. I stood up and slowly made my way over to him. I yawned softly into the back of my hand and leaned next to him. Sherlock looked up at me with a slightly bewildered expression. "I'm worried about you," I whispered. Sherlock gave me a confused look. "I feel like something huge is coming, and I'm just worried," I sighed. He remained silent and I grabbed his chin in my hand gently pulling his face around to look at mine. "Do you want to know why I kissed you that first time? And every other time afterwards?" I whispered.

"Yes," Sherlock said.

"Because I wanted you to be kissed at least one time by someone who genuinely cares for you. The other times were just because I liked the first time," I said slowly, and finished with a sheepish smile.

"I don't know what to say," Sherlock said softly.

"How about 'thank you'?" I suggested.

"Thank you," he said after a moment's hesitation.

"I'm going to kiss you now," I warned him before leaning forward and pressing my lips to his once more. I cupped his chin gently in my hand and he reached out to slide his fingertips along my ribs. It was a chaste kiss, but it meant a lot to me. I broke away and leaned my forehead against his, my eyes trained on the floor. He reached up and took my hand from his face so he could twine our fingers together. "You should sleep," Sherlock said with his gaze on our interlocked hands.

"Right," I sighed. I turned away from him and headed back over to the stool beside John. I crossed my arms on the counter and leaned my head on them. I fell asleep as soon as I closed my eyes.

I woke up to the sound of John shouting. "Well probably one of the killers you managed to attract… jesus. Jesus. Sherlock, Jamie let's go," he said. I slid from my stool and onto my feet, still trying to make my foggy brain function. "You go. I'm busy," Sherlock said.

"Busy?" John scoffed.

"Thinking. I need to think,"

"You need to… Doesn't she mean anything to you? You once half killed a man because he laid a finger on her," John said, clearly distraught.

"She's my landlady," Sherlock said with a shrug.

"She's dying," John said furiously. "You machine." I watched him shout at Sherlock for a few minutes before slowly shuffling to the door. Might as well get a head start. My foggy brain supplied that Mrs. Hudson was somehow in danger. I made it out of the door before John came storming passed me. He grabbed my hand and towed me along in his rage. "John, slow down," I called as we headed out of the building. He hailed a taxi and we climbed in. He directed it to Baker Street and stared out of the window.

We arrived at Baker Street and scrambled inside. Mrs. Hudson was perfectly fine, and watching one of our new neighbors drill into the wall. I stared at her in disbelief before whirling around. "Oh my God," John shouted and darted after me. We ran to the curb and hailed a taxi. "St. Bart's!" I shouted. John and I climbed inside and slammed the door shut. The driver immediately took off.

We stepped out of the taxi outside of the hospital and John's phone began to ring. "Hello?" John asked. "Hey, Sherlock, you okay?" I motioned for him to place the call on speaker.

"Turn around and walk back the way you came now," Sherlock said.

"No, we're coming in," I said.

"Just do as I ask. Please," he said frantically. We exchanged a look and the complied. We walked until he ordered us to stop. "Look up. I'm on the rooftop," Sherlock said. We both whipped around and I picked out his dark figure immediately. "Shezza?" I said, fear sinking into my stomach.

"Oh God," John said.

"I… I can't come down, so we'll just have to do it like this," Sherlock said.

"What's going on?" John asked anxiously.

"An apology. It's all true,"

"What?" John and I said simultaneously.

"Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty,"

"Why are you saying this?" I said softly.

"I'm a fake,"

"Sherlock," John said.

"The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade; I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson, and Molly…. in fact, tell anybody who will listen that I invented Moriarty for my own purposes," Sherlock said through a tear-filled voice.

"Okay, shut up, Sherlock. The first time we met…. the first time we met, you knew all about my sister, right?" John said.

"Nobody could be that clever,"

"You could,"

"I researched you. Before we met I discovered anything that I could to impress you," Sherlock said after a chuckle and a sniff. "It's a trick. Just a magic trick."

"No, all right. Stop it now," John said with his eyes closed. I let out a quiet sob, tears filling my eyes as I gazed up at Sherlock. "Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please will you do this for me?" Sherlock said frantically and reached a hand out to us.

"Do what?" I asked softly.

"This phone call… it's my note. It's what people do, don't they- leave a note?" he replied.

"Leave a note when?" I asked.

"Jamie, I am sorry for all the hurt I have caused you. All the grief, all the stress. Please forget about everything. Can you do that? Move on?"

"No," I replied.

"Goodbye, John, Jamie," Sherlock said.

"No, don't," John said. Sherlock gazed down at us and then moved to toss his phone away. "No! Sherlock!" John shouted. I reached out my arms to him, praying for him to stop. Sherlock spread his arms for a moment, then fell forward. I cried out, and John stared in utter horror. I heard the impact of the body and crouched down burying my head in my arms. I sobbed into my waist and listened to John stumble forward. I felt like my stomach had been ripped out. I was cold, and my brain was replaying the image of him standing with his arms spread like an eagle over and over. I stood and walked after John, tears streaming down my face. I walked just fast enough to see them lift Sherlock onto a wheeled stretcher. I approached the group of onlookers and grabbed John. He was in complete shock. "Come here, Johnny," I said softly and pulled him into me. He wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in my neck. I sobbed into his shoulders and onlookers watched us with pity.


	23. Chapter 23

**Hey guys! Here's some more chapters. **

Chapter 23

I sat numbly in Mycroft's office for an entire day, staring off into space. Annette came by and offered me things, but I remained silent. I pictured my skin made of stone and gazed into the fire in front of me. I was sitting in a chair, but I refused to touch the one he sat in. I made Mycroft move it before he left me in his office. I told him place it in the corner behind me, so I couldn't possibly see it. I refused to go to the funeral or the burial site with John and Mrs. Hudson. He wasn't there anymore. To hold hands with or shout at. Tease. Hug. Admire for his beauty and intelligence. I lifted my hands to my mouth and balled them into fists, staring at the fire. I refused to acknowledge the incessant need to go to the bathroom or eat. I couldn't close my eyes for any length of time. He was always there, staring back at me.

Several hours later, Annette returned. "Jamie, please eat," she said from somewhere over my shoulder.. I sighed as my stomach rumbled. Annette stepped closer and touched my shoulder. "I know. Trust me I know. To have someone you loved ripped from this Earth like that," Annette started but I cut her off.

"Shut up. I don't want to talk about him. Just leave," I mumbled in a disused voice. She sighed sadly and turned to leave, shaking her head at Mycroft as she passed him. "Ms. McConnell, you must eat something," he said.

"No," I muttered.

"It's been two days. Eat. Please," he sighed. I closed my eyes, but rapidly opened them when he was there grinning back at me. "Fine," I muttered after an audible sigh. Mycroft called Annette back and she placed a tray of tea and sandwiches on the table to my right. I grabbed one and mechanically ate it. I then grabbed the tea and carefully sipped the hot liquid. I focused on how I felt, and it was a great improvement. I looked up at them and picked up another sandwich. "I don't think I can walk," I muttered sheepishly after I finished that one, too. Annette smiled at me and stepped forward to grab my arm and wrap it around her shoulder. My hips protested angrily when I moved them so I could stand. "Oh, ow," I hissed. Mycroft watched me struggle with a slightly worried expression. "How do you feel?" he asked as Annette began to help me hobble into the corridor.

"Exhausted, dirty," I replied. Anette chuckled beside me and Mycroft walked on my other side with his hands behind his back. I was completely exhausted, but I couldn't even begin to think about sleeping. We walked down the corridor to the room Mycroft had given me, and Annette helped me inside. "Will you help me shower?" I asked Annette softly.

"Of course," she replied. She turned us toward the bathroom and guided me inside. She closed the door behind me and locked it. She turned on the spray while I slowly removed my clothes. I stood there completely naked with my arms wrapped around my stomach, gazing at the floor. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

"There's nothing for you to be sorry about,"

"No, I'm sorry for being difficult. I'm in… so much pain. I can't breathe," I said.

"Maybe you'll feel better once you're clean," she suggested with a rueful smile. I nodded slowly and she gestured to the shower. "It's ready," she said. I stepped forward and into the spray and closed my eyes as the warm water pummeled me. I stood there for nearly five minutes before I began to scrub my skin clean. When I was finished I shut the water off and Annette handed me a towel. "Thank you," I said softly. I dried my skin then stepped out onto the cold tile with the towel wrapped around me. "I'm going to lie down now," I muttered and slowly shuffled to the door. My hair dripped down my spine as I walked.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, the room was dark and the bed had the covers folded back invitingly. Annette followed me as I slowly made my way to the bed. "Can you get me some clothes for tomorrow?" I asked quietly.

"Of course," she replied with a small smile. I couldn't force myself to return the gesture. I climbed onto the bed, still wrapped in the towel and pulled the covers up to my chin. I grabbed one of the spare pillows and clutched it to my chest and stared off into the corner of the room. "Would you like me to stay?" Annette asked from the end of the bed.

"Yes," I sighed. She stood for a moment before walking around and climbing onto the other side of the bed. She laid on top of the covers and stared up at the ceiling. "Just until I fall asleep," I whispered. I watched her nod before closing my eyes hesitantly. It took several seconds before he appeared. He was grinning at me, his curls wild from sleep. I stared at him in my mind's eye and sobbed softly. I felt Annette's arms wrap around my shoulders and pull me into her. I laid my head on her right shoulder and sobbed into her neck. "Oh, my God," I cried as the tears flowed down my cheeks. My chest was painfully tight and I clutched at Annette like she was a life preserver, the pillow I was previously clutching completely forgotten. I cried into the crook of her neck for several minutes until I finally relaxed enough to drift off to sleep.

When I woke up, my eyes were burning from the tears I had shed. I slowly opened them and glanced around. I had my head cradled to Annette's chest and my arms were curled around her small waist. She was asleep, her face serene and gorgeous. I allowed a small ghost of a smile to pass across my lips before I snuggled into her and closed my eyes once more.

I don't know how long I laid there silently, but when I opened my eyes the room was still dark. Annette was awake, and she had her soft gaze on me. I looked up at her and slowly released her. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Much better," I said quietly.

"That is quite good. Are you hungry?" she asked. My stomach growled loudly in response. She cracked a smile and rolled over so she could stand. "I'll bring you something to eat and some clothes, just relax," she said and turned to leave. I nodded at her and rolled onto my stomach with my head on my arms.

She returned with a bowl of cereal and I sat up on the bed and ate it quietly. When I was finished, I handed the bowl back to her and slowly stood to pull on the clothing she brought me, which was jeans and an old shirt. I slowly braided my hair and let it hang down along my spine. "What time is it?" I asked.

"A little after six in the evening," Annette replied. I nodded and slowly hobbled to the door. "I want to do something," I said as Annette followed me into the hall. She hummed in response, and I fell silent. I felt antsy, like I shouldn't be idle. I needed a task…. a case to be more precise. I knew I couldn't do one though. Not without him here. I found myself heading to Mycroft's office subconsciously. The door was open, and I slowly stepped inside, my bare feet silent on the floor. "Good evening, Ms. McConnell," Mycroft said from his desk. He was enjoying a cup of tea, and his suit looked as pristine as ever. I, on the other hand, felt disheveled and ruined, like a broken toy. "Hello, Mycroft," I sighed and stood in the center of his office with my arms curled around my ribs.

"How are you feeling?" he asked carefully.

"I…. feel fine," I replied, my gaze on the floor. He carefully set his cup down on the desk in front of him, and I lifted my gaze to his. He gave me a brief smile, which I struggled to return. "I took the liberty of having all of your belongings transferred to your room here. You may stay with me for the time being. I know it must be… painful… to be at Baker Street," Mycroft said.

"Thank you," I said softly.

"You are welcome. I have to inform you that your brother, Mr. McConnell, will being taking a position overseas in America. It is a semi-permanent arrangement, but he may return on holiday often," Mycroft continued hesitantly.

"When does he leave?" I asked in the same dejected voice.

"Tomorrow," Mycroft replied.

"Right," I sighed.

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I spent the next day with Patrick. He and I carefully avoided talking about anything to do with Sherlock. I couldn't even speak to John. He reminded me too much, which was painful. I wanted to be around John, but it was hard. I sent a long text message to him explaining meticulously why I was avoiding him. He replied with acceptance and understanding and promised to see me soon.

The final goodbye with Patrick wasn't as painful as I thought it would be. We planned on speaking as often as possible, and he knew I was safe with Mycroft. I didn't cry, but I did cling onto him for several minutes. When he released me to climb into the car that would take him away, I turned and headed back inside so I didn't have to watch him leave.

I slowly felt myself becoming numb to the pain in my heart. I began to put up a front of happiness and built a wall around my heart. Annette spent all of her free time by my side. We spent a lot of time just reading or watching telly in silence. Mycroft would join us occasionally, and we would play a board game. He beat us at every game we played, and would question why we were playing. Usually, I gave up after the third round and sat and watched the other two play in silence.

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Four months after the Fall, I was finally feeling mostly normal. I would go out to dinner with Annette, and I found myself smiling and laughing easily. No one mentioned him, no one spoke of the three months that I sat around the house in silence. I even gained enough courage to visit Mrs. Hudson, which I was very proud of. I knocked on the door and waited for her to answer it. "Oh, Jamie, dear. How are you?" she cried when she opened the door and saw it was me.

"I'm doing okay," I replied and hugged her gently.

"And John?" she asked and peered around behind me.

"I haven't spoken to him," I whispered.

"Oh dear. Why not?" she scolded.

"It's… still rather painful for me…. to see him," I replied. She frowned at me for a moment. "We talk on the phone occasionally though," I tried.

"Oh, well that's nice to hear. Would you like to come inside?" she said.

"I'd rather not," I mumbled and gazed at the ground with my hands clasped behind my back.

"I understand," she said somberly.

"Well, I have a date to get to, so I'm gonna…. head off," I said casually.

"A date?" she said happily.

"Yes, ma'am. Well,... uh, her name's Annette," I said and rubbed the back of my neck.

"Annette…." she sighed happily.

"So… I'll stop by another time, goodbye," I said and spun on my heel to hurry off. She called a goodbye after me and I heard the door shut just as I began to hail a taxi. When I was finally able to get one, I directed them to the restaurant Annette had agreed to meet me and climbed inside.

Our date went rather smoothly, and we agreed to repeat the excursion. She kissed my forehead before heading off to her flat, and I texted Mycroft that I was ready to come home. I didn't have to wait long for the black government car to pull up to the curb. "Hello, Sammy," I sighed as I climbed inside.

"Hello, Jamie," Samuel, the driver, replied. I pulled the door shut and Sammy merged into the London traffic. I stared silently out of the window as we rolled along, trying to recall every word Annette and I shared on our date. It was easy to speak to her, as easy as taking a breath. She was so gentle, and carefully avoided topics that were painful to me. I could never be worthy enough for her.

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It took three months for me to discover that I enjoyed dancing at the local clubs. I spent my entire night at a chosen club, dancing and laughing with the people there. I didn't drink because alcohol made me sick. I enjoyed myself without having to be inebriated. The people around me pressured me to drink occasionally, but I was a rock in my resolve. Men would occasionally try and take me home with them, but I refused every time. They soon learned to stop asking, and we all enjoyed ourselves regardless. I danced with women and men alike, and I was quickly drenched with sweat. I only stepped foot off of the dance floor to drink water. Inevitably, I was groped by many men, and I paid them no mind if it was a passing 'hello' across my breasts. If it wasn't, I would tell them to shove off. The more persistent men got a good push, and that's when they learned I meant what I said.

Mycroft disapproved of my nightly habits and began to send one of his suited workers with me. He stood silently in the corner, his eyes trained on me the entire night. The only time he moved was when someone got too touchy, but I handled it with ease. He was my constant sentinel, and I felt safe with him there. I never bothered to learn his name because he always disappeared when I contacted Mycroft about coming home.

I knew my silent sentinel was Mycroft's doing because I asked him about it. He told me not to worry about him, and that he was there for my protection. He wouldn't impede on my fun. I had agreed that he was necessary because some people were rather pushy about my past as the detective trio. I only had to run away on one occasion. It was a middle aged woman, and I had smiled at her outside of the club when I was standing there taking a break in the cool night air. "You're… Jamie McConnell! The young woman who used to work with that fake genius, right?" she had said in a rather irritatingly nasal voice.

"That's me," I said and stuffed my hands deep in my pockets. I rocked on my heels as she stared openly at me. "Is it true that he paid that actor to play James Moriarty?" she asked after an entire minute of staring.

"...yes," I replied hesitantly.

"I knew it! He was just an ordinary man. But... he was rather gorgeous," she said with a smile. I stared out at the street with a neutral expression, remaining silent. "Did you fancy him?" she asked.

"I'd rather not speak about him at the moment," I muttered.

"It's been nine months," she cried. I took a deep calming breath as anger began to bubble in my stomach. "That is correct," I replied cooly.

"So, you should have no issue sharing all the details about him," she said.

"What would you like to know?" I sighed and rubbed my temples.

"Is it true he used to fire guns and act like a raving lunatic?"

"Yes,"

"What was his favorite case?"

"None of them. He enjoyed them all," I muttered and rocked on my heels.

"Do you have a favorite?" she asked. I looked over at her and studied her for a moment. She had carefully curled brown hair, and was obviously a housewife. She had a ring on her finger, so she was married. Her make-up was minimal, which most likely meant that she had very little time to get ready in the morning. Her clothes were pristine, but not very high end. "I enjoyed…. the case we did at Grimpen Village. The one with the Hound," I replied carefully as I continued to study her.

"I loved reading about that one!" she cried.

"You read the blog, figures," I muttered. She obviously had the time for it. "I read it regularly, but I haven't been on in quite a while. Is there anything new?" she said hopefully.

"Most likely not. John hasn't been on any new cases, and I don't think he will ever again," I replied.

"That's too bad. Where is Doctor Watson?" she asked and glanced around.

"He isn't here if that's what you're wondering. We don't spend a lot of time together anymore, it's… still a bit painful. He reminds me of… you know," I said and rocked on my heels nervously once more.

"How does he remind you of Sherlock Holmes? They're polar opposites," she said.

"Look, they were a team. They were my boys, and I can't have one without the other. I still care about John dearly, but it's hard for me to see him without… the Consultant Detective looming over his shoulder," I replied as carefully as I could manage.

"You can't even say his name," she replied accusingly.

"No, and I refuse to,"

"Why?"

"There are these funny little things called memories. And those tend to pop up and rip open fresh wounds whenever they're triggered. So if I don't say his name, I don't get hurt," I said, staring into her eyes challengingly.

"I understand," she muttered and shifted her gaze to the ground. I counted the seconds she gazed there, and after twenty she looked back up at me happily, completely unfazed. "Do you happen to have any of Sherlock's belongings, maybe his belstaff or the deerstalker?" she asked.

"Why?"

"If you don't want them around, painful memories and all, then I could take them off your hands," she said hopefully.

"No, you may not have them," I replied.

"You don't need them," she replied.

"Actually, I do," I replied and swiveled on my heels to make a retreat. She huffed and followed me. We walked for five minutes, before I turned and glared at her. "I'd appreciate it if you let me enjoy my evening in peace," I said cooly.

"But I have more questions," she replied longingly.

"Well, consult the newspapers. Contact Kitty Riley, she's got his whole life story," I replied and fluttered my hands before turning and once more walking away. She followed me again, and I sighed. I looked over my shoulder at her before turning and breaking out into a run. She called after me, but I ignored her. I whipped out my phone while I ran and hit speed dial, calling Mycroft. "Hello, Ms. McConnell," his voice sounded when he answered.

"Mycroft, get me out of here. This incessant woman won't stop asking me about the man in the hat," I panted as I ran.

"Are you.. running?" he asked.

"Of course," I huffed and listened to my feet hit the pavement.

"Well, I can't find you if you keep running like that," he said.

"Well, I feel like the woman has called up a team of housewives to chitter about the man in the hat and his female companion. And now, they're probably chasing me," I replied. He chuckled on the other line, and I peered ahead. "Okay, I found an alley, rescue me," I hissed and pulled to a stop against the wall of the building.

"I shall endeavor to," he replied and hung up. I lowered my phone and tried to catch my breath, peering anxiously out at the street. I typed a message to John after debating over it for a few minutes.

**I think we need to see each other. **

I slowly sank to the ground, and sat with my knees tucked up close to my chin. I hugged my legs and held my phone out, waiting for John's reply. When it finally came, I had a genuine smile on my face as I read it

**I'd like that. **

I typed a message back that read

**I'll have Mycroft pick you up tomorrow morning, and we can have lunch. **

I looked out at the street and saw Sammy waiting there for me. I slowly stood and stuffed my phone in my pocket as I briskly walked towards the car. I peered along the sidewalk, and saw it was clear. I darted out to the curb, and scrambled inside the car. "Hey, Sam," I called as he merged into the street.

"Hello, Jamie," he replied cooly. I grinned at him in the rearview mirror, and pulled out my phone to text Mycroft

**Could you have Sam pick John up tomorrow? I need to see him.**

His reply was immediate

**I will. M **

I smiled and leaned my head against the window and closed my eyes. I opened them again when we arrived at Mycroft's house, and I called my thanks to Sammy as I climbed out of the car. I walked up the short staircase and into the Entrance hall. Mycroft was standing under the large chandelier with his hands clasped behind his back. "Hello, Mycroft," I said and stopped in front of him.

"Hello, Ms. McConnell," he replied cooly.

"Could you call me Jamie? I've been meaning to ask you that, just kept forgetting. Foggy mind and all. I just figured… since I'm living here now, might as well be on a first name basis," I said and rubbed the back of my neck.

"Very well, Jamie," he replied. I smiled at him, and he gazed back at me with a neutral expression. "I don't think I ever thanked you… for dealing with my nonsense. So, thank you, for taking all of the grief I give you as graciously as you can manage," I said and rocked on my heels.

"It was no trouble. I enjoy having you around," he replied stiffly.

"Really? Well, I enjoy spending time with you as well. You're quite the charmer," I said and pointed a finger at him while I began to walk towards the hall that lead to my room. He turned to follow me, and matched my stride as we set off down the hall. "Do you… need something from me?" I asked carefully.

"Not quite. I was curious about your evening," he replied.

"Oh, well you could have said that. It was nice, except for the incessant woman. She wasn't entirely rude, just irritatingly curious. She didn't seem to understand my reluctance to speak about…. him," I said and looked up at him.

"Ordinary people rarely ever show humility,"

"I have noticed that,"

"Inevitably," he replied. We approached my door and I turned to face him, leaning on the door. He stood silently, staring back at me with mild interest. "I am quite thankful for you helping me, and I hope you don't mind hearing my thanks many times over," I said. He remained silent, but quirked an eyebrow at me before regaining a neutral expression. "So, good night, Mycroft Holmes," I said.

"Good night, Jamie McConnell," he replied. I nodded to him, and he swiveled on his heels to continue down the hall. I watched him for a moment before turning around to open the door and step inside.

**BoysInBookAreBetter: Thanks for the awesome review! It really makes me feel good about my writing. I'm glad you enjoy my writing style. Stick around for more :) **


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

I pranced around with excitement the next morning, waiting for the moment John was supposed to arrive. I planned for us to have a nice lunch and then go for a walk out in the garden. It was a gorgeous day, and the clouds were puffy and white. I had decided on a white dress that stopped just at my knees. I braided my copper hair and swept the end over my left shoulder, tying it off with a bright green ribbon. I had offered for Annette to join us, but she refused, claiming I needed to spend time with John alone. She was right of course. I found myself perched on the windowsill of one of the massive windows in the entrance hall as the time ticked closer. I was a bit nervous for it was the first time I had seen John since… the fall. I vowed not to speak of it until he brought it up. I didn't want to cause either of any unnecessary pain.

I leapt up from my perch when the black government car rolled through the gate and up the drive. I went to open the door and stepped out onto the porch just as John was climbing out. "Hello, John," I said, my voice slightly nervous. I walked down the short flight of stairs and stopped several feet away from him as he closed the door. "Hello, Jamie," he said and studied me for a moment. I took a hesitant step closer, my fingers wiggling nervously. I bit my lip and smiled at him. "You look… really good," he said. I watched Sammy drive away for a moment before shifting my gaze back to him. "You're not so bad yourself," I replied with a small smirk. I rubbed the back of my neck nervously and shifted my weight between my feet. "Would you like to come inside?" I asked.

"Okay," he said. He gestured for me to lead the way, and I turned to walk back up the stairs. I stepped inside the hall and turned to close the door behind him. "You can leave your shoes there if you'd like," I said and pointed to a mat at the corner of the room. "But, we are going back outside after lunch."

"I'll keep them, if that's all right,"

"Right," I sighed. I gestured for him to follow me, and lead the way to the kitchen. We sat down at the small table in the corner of the kitchen and ate sandwiches. I made tea and we sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes. "So, any new ladies in your life?" I asked.

"Yes, actually. Her name is Mary. She's very kind to me," he replied.

"That's fantastic. I would like to meet her some day," I replied with a grin.

"Of course," he replied with an equal grin. "What about you? Anybody in your life?"

"Well…. I sort of…. have a girlfriend, if that's what people call each other nowadays. It's quite complicated actually," I replied and rubbed the back of my neck nervously.

"Girlfriend? That's… really great," he replied kindly. I knew John would be accepting of my choices. He was always very open-minded. "Would you like to meet her? She's around here somewhere," I asked and gestured to the house.

"If you don't mind," he replied. I grinned and pulled out my phone to text Annette

**John would like to meet you, come to the kitchen. **

I set my phone on the table and looked up at him. "So, how's the job?" I asked.

"It's steady," he replied.

"Right. Mycroft is taking care of me, I'm still a little…. unstable," I replied quietly.

"I understand. It's been very hard," he replied, matching my tone.

"Let's not speak of that. I want this to be a good day. I… need my doctor back," I replied with a ghost smile. He smiled back at me and glanced up when Annette appeared in the doorway. "Hello, gorgeous," I called to her.

"Hello," she replied and walked towards us. John stood as she approached and held out a hand to her. "Doctor John Watson," he said.

"Annette Reinhardt," she replied and shook his hand. They both sat and I glanced over at Annette. "I told him," I said when she met my gaze questioningly.

"Oh," she replied softly. I smiled at her before shifting my gaze back to John. We fell into a slightly uncomfortable silence and I drummed my fingers nervously on my thigh. "So, would you like to see the garden, John?" I asked and looked up to meet his gaze.

"Yes," he replied with a small smile. We all stood and pushed our chairs in. Annette collected our plates and carried them over to the sink. "I'll see you soon, Jamie," she called before slipping away. I waved to her before turning back to John. "It's this way," I said and gestured toward the door. We stepped outside and into the bright sunlight. I was barefoot, but the path was cobblestone so it wasn't painful. John held out his arm to me, and I took it easily. We walked slowly, enjoying the scenery. "Do you genuinely enjoy living with Mycroft?" John asked.

"It's quite… boring, but I don't mind his company," I replied not meeting his gaze.

"Do you still get detrimental when you're bored?" he asked softly.

"Not as much as before, but sometimes. He and Annette are very sure to keep me busy. Painting, playing piano, shopping. I like to dance at the clubs at night. Mycroft doesn't particularly like that habit of mine," I replied.

"Understandably," John replied.

"He sends one of his men with me. They stand watch in the corner," I replied with a smirk.

"Always careful," John said with a smile.

"I've made many friends with his orderlies. Annette actually works for him, she's sort of his personal assistant," I explained. John nodded at me and we fell into a comfortable silence. I spotted my favorite fountain ahead and steered toward it. It was an intricate design with many sharp edges poking forth. Water spewed from some of the rounder edges and out of the top. I pulled him down to sit next to me on the low wall surrounding the decorum. "This is my favorite spot," I said hesitantly.

"I see. It's quite peaceful," John replied and gazed around. I nodded and swung my feet slightly and twisted my fingers together on my lap. "Do… you miss it?" John asked after a few minutes of silence. I glanced up at him and easily picked out the sadness in his eyes. "Of course, John. Every second," I said softly.

"I sometimes… find myself looking around for… you know," he replied sheepishly.

"You and me both," I sighed. John looked down at the grown, leaning his arms across his knees. His shoulders were tense and I hesitantly reached out to brush my fingers across his back. he leaned into my touch and I smiled slightly. "I haven't picked up a cigarette in…. eleven months," I said with a small smile.

"That's really great, Jamie. I'm very happy for you," John said while looking up at me and smiling. I grinned back at him, basking in his praise a bit. I studied him for a moment while he gazed around the garden once more. He was much more reserved and was constantly glancing around. I could see the sadness and loss deep in his eyes. He tried to hide it from me, but I knew John. I knew the pain he felt because I could feel it, too. "Would you like to… go visit the grave?" I asked in a small voice.

"Have you been?"

"No," I sighed.

"I understand," John replied. "But, I would like to go with you. I'd be… honored." I gave him a small grin and stood so we could walk back to the house. John held out his arm to me once more, and I took it. Our walk back took much less time because we had a purpose. we stepped inside and I immediately headed to grab my black trainers. I pulled them on, along with a pair of socks, and turned to find John waiting for me. "Wait right here, I'll get a car," I said before turning and walking briskly down a side hallway.

When I returned from alerting Sammy of where we wanted to go, I found John standing by the door with his hands hanging loosely at his sides. I smiled at him and opened the door, gesturing for him to step out first. We waited at the bottom of the stairs for the car to arrive, and when it did, John opened the door and allowed me in first. He settled beside me and closed the door. We started moving seconds later. I drummed my fingers on my thighs nervously and my emotions tore at me from all sides. I was anxious to be finished with this excursion, elated that I got to spend time with John, and horribly depressed at the thought of finally facing my demons.

There it was. The place I had avoided for exactly nine months. I stood with my hands shoved into the pockets of my dress and stared at the marble headstone. The words "SHERLOCK HOLMES" were etched into the front. John stood beside me with his back straight and stiff. I glanced up at him and he shifted his gaze to me. "I… I don't know what to say," I whispered. John gaze me a rueful smile before shifting his gaze back to the marble. I slowly stepped forward and stood before the stone, staring at it. I listened to John walk away and smiled softly, he was giving me privacy. I slowly sat cross-legged in front of the stone, and fluttered my fingers nervously. I reached out and pressed my palms flat to the warm marble and bowed my head. My heart swelled in my chest, and I struggled against my tears. "You… were very, very brave. And kind," I began quietly, my head bowed. "I will always remember the days we spent. We chased monsters, and we saved people. I still find myself looking around for you, and it hurts. It hurts so very much." I paused to suck in a deep breath and blow it out. I balled my hands into fists and relaxed them once more. I took a deep breath before speaking again, "But, I will always cherish the fantastic times we had. I miss the way you breathe, and the way you hold my fingers in yours… and I most certainly miss the way you would always be there when I needed you. And I need you, Sherlock Holmes. I will always need you." I let out a choked sob and lifted my right hand to hastily wipe my tears away. I sat there in silence, my hands still stretched up above my head.

John returned after about ten minutes of my quiet sobbing and he placed a hand on my shoulder. "Did… you say what you needed to say?" he asked quietly. I nodded at him and wiped my tears away again. He sighed and sat on the ground next to me, his arm curved around my back. I couldn't find the strength to stand and walk away. I sat there for hours and John was silent the entire time. I held the same position even after my tears had dried. I finally moved when the sun dipped down below the horizon. "Are you ready?" John whispered in my ear.

"I'll never be ready, John," I sighed and let my hands fall. I slowly stood and brushed the grass off my dress. I took John's fingers and laced them with mine before turning my back on Sherlock Holmes and walking away.

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Three more months passed, and it was the day before the one year anniversary of the fall. John had spent as much time with me these past three months as his job would allow. He had finally invited me over to meet Mary, and I had immediately taken a liking to her. She was very funny and she made John happy. Mary didn't mind that I was affectionate toward John. She understood our dynamics. Mary and Annette were also very compatible. We would sometimes go out to dinner when John was working nights, and I immensely enjoyed myself.

I invited John over to Mycroft's house while Mycroft was on yet another government trip. We sat in the library all morning and played Cluedo. I wound up falling asleep on the window bench while John read one of the many books. I slept until Annette came in and told me to entertain John. "He's doing a marvelous job all by himself," I whined and gestured to him. John chuckled from behind a massive novel and I smirked at Annette. "See?" I said.

"Why don't you and John go out and have some fun? Maybe take Mary along. She's texted you twice now," Annette said and handed me my phone. I sighed and opened the messages

**How are you and John? **

**Are you doing well? **

I smiled and typed a message back to her

**We're doing fantastic. I'm about to take John out shopping, care to join us? **

Her reply was immediate

**If you'll have me. **

I switched off my phone and climbed down from my seat. "Come along, John," I said in a singsong voice.

"Where are we going?" he sighed and closed the book. I told him we were going shopping while he set the book on a nearby table and stood. I grinned at him and lead the way out of the library. We walked down the hallway to the entrance hall and I walked over to the closet to grab mine and John's coat. I handed his to him and slipped mine on. I made sure not to look at the ominous black belstaff and blue scarf hanging on the far right as I closed the closet. "Ready?" I asked. He nodded to me and we made our way outside and into Sammy's car.

We stopped by their flat so Mary could join us before we headed off once more. I dragged them through at least twenty different shops and oggled all of the merchandise. Mary and John would laugh at me when I tried on every thing that suited my fancy. I didn't buy anything because I didn't feel like carrying the bags. We spent most of the afternoon going from store to store, and I tried not to think about the next day. John and I were going to go back to Baker Street and visit with Mrs. Hudson and maybe see Greg. I hadn't spoken to either of them in over three months. I still couldn't step inside Baker Street, it still hurt. I didn't think it would ever stop hurting. But tomorrow, John and I vowed to go inside.

Tomorrow came, and I remained silent the entire morning. Mycroft and Annette skirted around me in hallways and rooms, avoiding me like the plague. I was a ticking bomb of emotions and I could blow at any moment. I decided to walk to Baker Street, and trudged along in the cold morning with my hand stuffed into my coat pockets and my collar turned up. I glared at the ground and innocent bystanders skirted around me as well. They could sense the crackling emotions underneath my skin. I was angry, extremely so. I was also sad and lonely. I dreamed about him every night for an entire year and woke up screaming months on end. Screaming for him. That was the only time I ever said his name. My room was the only one occupied on my corridor, so no one heard me. The sky opened up and a deluge dumped from the sky. I continued on while people dashed around me with umbrellas. I was soaked almost immediately, but I hardly felt it. I turned onto Baker Street and locked my eyes on my old home. John was probably already inside, he said he would meet me there.

I stopped on the curb and looked up at 221B for a minute before returning my focus on the door and moving to knock. I waited for Mrs. Hudson to answer the door, and when she did she scolded me for not taking an umbrella. "I didn't want to carry one," I replied and stepped inside. I tried not to look at the stairs as I took off my shoes and my coat. "I'll get you a towel, dear," she said and scurried off. I hung my coat over my arm and shuffled down the hall after her. I stepped into her flat and stood in the kitchen while she searched for a towel. "Here we are, dear," she said and carried a towel into the kitchen.

"Thank you," I sighed and used it to dry my dripping hair. "Where's John?"

"He isn't here, yet," she replied and began to make tea. I sat in one of the chairs with the towel wrapped around me and sighed quietly. The flat was exactly the same as I remembered it, and it brought back many memories. I tried not to think about the flat upstairs, but it was inevitable. The more I fought against those thoughts, the more they flooded my mind. Mrs. Hudson saved me from the depths of my thoughts when she placed a cup of tea in front of me. "Just the way you like it, dear," she said with a kind smile. I flashed a smile back at her before picking up the cup and taking a sip. I smiled and set it back down on the table. She sat across from me with her own cup and smiled at me. "How have you been, Mrs. Hudson?" I asked.

"I have been marvelous, except for my hip. It's atrocious. But, it is quite quiet around here without you lot," she replied.

"I understand that. I do miss the…. constant noise that seemed to drift all about the building," I sighed and tapped my fingers on the table.

"How is Mycroft? Is he treating you kind enough?"

"Oh, he's been very kind to me. It's quite a surprise, but I think he's trying to make up for…. you know,"

"Well, that certainly is nice to here. How have you been?"

"I've been….. doing better. I'm still…. struggling with what happened. But, I'll manage," I struggled to find the right words as I spoke. She nodded back at me and sipped her tea. I sipped mine as well, and looked up when the doorbell rang. "I'll get it," she said and scurried off to answer the door. I set my tea down and brushed my bangs back out of my face with my fingers. I grinned when John stepped into the kitchen, followed by Mrs. Hudson. "Hello, John," I said and stood to embrace him. He patted my back and I released him so we could all sit at the table. He and Mrs. Hudson conversed for a few minutes about his work and daily life. I zoned out and sipped my tea quietly. "So, it's actually been one year?" John sighed sadly.

"Believe it or not," I replied in an equally somber voice. Mrs. Hudson placed a cup of tea in front of John and joined us at the table. "I cannot fathom what we're supposed to do today," I sighed and leaned my head on my fist. John frowned at me for a moment before looking over at Mrs. Hudson. "We could… visit him," Mrs. Hudson said. I looked over at her and John before nodding. I hadn't made it a habit of visiting him. I didn't want to remember that grin or laugh, the dark curls and pale complexion. I sighed unhappily and sipped my tea some more.

We went to the cemetery and I immediately sat in front of the headstone. I hesitated before reaching out to press my left palm to the stone. John and Mrs. Hudson stood behind me quietly. "Sh-should we say something?" I asked. I shivered in the cold air and used my other hand to pull my coat closer around me. I waited for their response for a few minutes before speaking on my own. "Well, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, it'll be one whole year in ten minutes. It's still fresh and painful. I still see you smile and laugh at me in my dreams. I can't even begin to come to terms with this. I just want to… forget. Forget everything. Forget you. Maybe I'll be happy then. Maybe I can move on. But I can't do that. I can't forget you because I see you everywhere," I said in a clear voice, my gaze on the ground. I didn't cry or wail this time. I sat in silence for a few minutes and listened to Mrs. Hudson snivel behind me. I had a ghost smile on my lips, and let my hand drop from the stone. I slowly stood and turned towards my companions. "I'll…. wait over here," I said and gestured towards a cluster of trees to their right. I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my coat and slowly made my way towards the trees.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

I shuffled along the streets of London six months after the anniversary. It was raining, and I had my hood pulled up over my head. I had earbuds in, but I wasn't really listening to the music pouring from them. I walked with my hands stuffed in my pockets and my gaze focused on the ground so I didn't get any water in my eyes. It was around noon, and many of the pedestrians hurried past with their umbrellas held up high over their heads. I immediately felt that I had a tail and sighed. Mycroft always sent someone after me and he insisted that I ignore them. My spine tingled with that eerie feeling of being watched, and I glanced over my shoulder. A black mercedes was driving along the street with two men in suits driving. They were driving casually, but I could feel their eyes locked on me. I smirked and waved at them before turning down a side street that was barely wide enough for a car. I wanted to be alone for a bit.

My phone rang and I sighed. I stopped and leaned on the wall to answer it. "Hello?" I said.

"Hello...Ms. McConnell. It's been a long time," the voice on the other end said. It was the voice I never wanted to hear again. It was the voice that crowded in my nightmares months before the fall. The voice that caused me to spend weeks in the hospital. It was Ethan. "Wha-What do you want?" I stuttered into the phone. I glanced around frantically and pulled my hood up higher. "I just wanted to chat. Catch up a bit," he said nonchalantly.

"To chat?" I said incredulously. He chuckled on the other end and the hair on the back of my neck stood. I shivered and glanced around again. "I heard your little boyfriend jumped off the roof of St. Bart's. Such a tragedy," he said. "Sherlock Holmes is dead and gone, and you still roam the Earth. Does it pain you?" I remained silent and shuddered. I wanted to end the call, but I was enthralled. "I bet you cry for him every night. Just like you did during our quality time together. Scream his name. I still hear you screaming, and it's like music to my ears," he continued. I sucked in a deep breath and clutched my abdomen with my free hand. "Don't even think of hanging up the phone, that would be incredibly rude. I would just love to catch up with an old friend," he scolded. I sighed softly and glanced down the street. "You are quite quiet, I'm not even sure you're there," he said.

"I'm here," I said in a small voice.

"Marvelous, doll," he said happily. I remained silent and adjusted the phone to the other side. I used my free right hand to pull my hood up again. I was drenched with rain, but I didn't care. I was used to being cold. "I may have to pay dear Mrs. Hudson a visit. She was always a sweet lady," he said.

"Leave her alone," I ordered.

"Oh, dear, you seem to be delusional. I own you. I've marked your skin. I can do as I please… and I want you to come spend more time with me," he tsked.

"Why?"

"Because I enjoyed our last encounter. Maybe we could make this one even more…. memorable," he hissed. I swallowed and chewed on my lower lip. "Dear, I know where you are, you can't hide. I also know Mycroft has sent a tail after you, but you decided to avoid it. Not very bright on your part darling. So why don't you walk to the end of that street and get in the car waiting for you. It's a black Mercedes, just like one of Mycroft's cars. Get in and we can spend more time together somewhere special," he said. I glanced up and saw the car he spoke of and glanced back the way I came. "Don't even think about it, doll. I have men waiting for you there. They'll take you forcefully. Now, come along. Don't want to keep a fellow waiting. Chao!" he said and hung up. I stuffed my phone in my pocket and began to walk towards the black car. My blood roared in my ears and my stomach was cold with fear.

I climbed into the car and it immediately took off as soon as the door shut. I squeezed my eyes shut and tapped my fingers on my legs. We drove for half an hour and then the car stopped. Someone approached my door and pulled it open. "He's requested that you be blindfolded and unconscious for this last bit. So be reasonable," the man said. He reached forward and tied a strip of black cloth around my eyes. "Just take a deep breath," he said and pushed a cloth to my face. I mentally rolled my eyes at the cliche. Chloroform. I swooned as the chemical began to take effect, and found myself slouched on the seat. The last thing I heard was the sound of the door closing.

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I woke up and slowly blinked my eyes open. I was hunched over on my knees with my wrists chained together and to a metal loop bolted to the floor. My feet were tied together as well and my back was aching. "Hello, princess," a voice crooned from somewhere behind me. I turned my head, trying to catch a glimpse of him. I was dressed in a white tanktop and my undergarments, but that was all. I shivered in the cool air and tugged uselessly on my chains. "It is quite nice to see you again," he said from directly behind me. I could feel him looming above me, and I cringed away from him. He slowly circled around so I could see him, and I took advantage of that. He was pristine, dressed in a quality pair of black slacks and a crisp white button up. He had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the top few buttons were open. His salt and pepper hair was carefully styled and his dark eyes were pools of cunning mischief. "What do you want from me?" I said in a clear voice, which surprised me.

"I just wish to restake my claims. I don't like it when people mess with my things," he replied curtly. I lifted my eyebrows at him and fidgeted with the chains once more. They were biting into my wrists and my knees were beginning to ache as well. "Uncomfortable, darling? I am sorry," he sighed. I glared at him and arched my back slightly, trying to relieve the burning. He stalked closer to me and reached into his pocket. I sucked in a deep breath as he produced a knife. "Recognize this beauty?" he taunted and brandished the blade. I locked my eyes on the metal and sucked in another deep breath. "I know you do. I've kept it, just for you. We're going to have so much fun together. Shall we begin?" he said and stalked even closer.

He was meticulous in his methods, and he began with slicing open every wound he left me. All thirteen scars dripped with red blood. He didn't cut very deep because he just barely pressed the tip of the blade into my skin. I bit my bottom lip, hard enough to break the skin, to keep from crying out. He didn't speak to me as he worked. I preferred it that way. It left me more room to focus on blocking out the pain. "I just love our time together! And we have so much more to do. Sherlock Holmes isn't here to save you," he sighed happily as he finally stepped back to admire his work. I kept my eyes closed and slowly released my lip. Blood dripped from the corner of my mouth as I probed the wound with my tongue. "Oh, dear," he sighed and stepped closer. "What have you done to your pretty lip?" I opened my eyes and glared at him. He tsked me and wiped the blood off my face with a wad of cloth he had in his pocket. He stuffed the wad back in his pocket and crouched down so he was at eye level. "I'm going to go and have dinner with another friend, your gorgeous wounds have already stopped bleeding. I'll be back in a few hours," he said like I was a child. I glared at him and he slowly rose from his crouch. "Chao!" he called over his shoulder as he spun on his heels to leave the room.

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I didn't know how long I kneeled there and fell out of consciousness several times from pain and boredom. I wound up falling onto my left side and curled up in the fetal position. I kept my hands tucked up to protect my face and tried not to think about my predicament. I was angry with myself for not thinking of a way to escape him. I just went along complacently. I could have run, or called Mycroft. But no, I just went along merrily to my doom. I sucked on my wounded lip as I thought and sighed. My wrists were raw from me pulling on my chains and I could see blood starting to well up between the links in the dim light. I was in a room very similar to the last room I 'spent time' with Ethan in. There was a drain about five feet away from me, and I was just barely able to touch the wall with my feet.

I laid on my side and watched the door from between my forearms. Sweat dripped from my face and along my spine from the humidity in the room. I wasn't used to this type of heat, and I missed the cool London air terribly. My stomach growled uselessly, reminding me that I hadn't eaten in over a day. I squeezed my eyes closed and pulled up some of my more recent memories to pass the time.

The first one was John and I out in public. We hardly ever got stopped by people on the street wanting to talk about Sherlock. But this day was different. We were walking along a row of shops and I immediately felt tingles along my spine. "John," I hissed. He looked over at me quizzically. "We're being followed," I said to him before glancing around. I linked our hands together and pulled him into the nearest shop. "How do you know?" he said as we moved farther back into the store.

"I just had a feeling," I muttered. I gestured to a rack of men's clothes and we began looking through them. My spine still danced with nerves, but I resisted looking around. I pulled a jumper off the rack and brandished it to John. He shifted his gaze to it and smirked. "That is the worst jumper I've ever seen," he said. It was ridiculously hideous, but I immediately fell in love with it. It was a deep purple with yellow splotches, but it was incredibly soft. "It's gorgeous," I muttered and held it up to myself. "And it's cozy."

"It's ugly," he sighed and turned back to the rack.

"And that's why I'm buying it," I said with a grin. He snorted a laugh and continued to look. I hugged the jumper to my chest and shuffled along behind him as he looked. "I like that one," I said and pointed to a charcoal grey button-up.

"It's rather nice," he said and pinched the sleeve.

"I'll buy it for you," I said in a singsong voice.

"Oh I couldn't possibly accept that,"

"Sorry, it's done," I said and swiped it off the rack. I grinned at him when he rolled his eyes at me, and we continued on. We didn't get very far before we were interrupted by a random bystander. "Hello," I said with a smile, still hugging my ugly jumper.

"Hello, you look familiar," he said and squinted his eyes at me. John had his back turned to us, shuffling through another rack of trousers. "I don't doubt it. I was in the newspaper a bunch a little over a year ago," I sighed and shrugged my shoulders.

"Oh! Right! Sherlock Holmes and his two companions," he said and snapped his fingers.

"Yeah," I said and lifted my left hand to rub my neck sheepishly.

"You must be Jamie McConnell, then. Is that Doctor John Watson?" he asked and indicated to John over my shoulder. John turned and studied the man with a smile. "Hello, yes," he said with a cheery smile. I took the opportunity to study the man. He was tall, almost as tall as the man in the hat, and had intense blue eyes. He was quite handsome with short blonde hair. He wore a sturdy pair of jeans and a local band shirt. I smiled at him, immediately appreciating this chance encounter. "It's a real shame that he jumped off St. Bart's. I loved his work. I enjoy your blog as well, Doctor Watson," he said with a lopsided smile.

"Oh, thank you," John said with a brief smile.

"Well, have a nice day," he said with a wave.

"Good bye," I said when he turned and walked away. John waved after him and shifted his gaze to me. I smiled at him and my memory shifted.

I was at Annette's flat and we were just watching telly. I was curled up on my side with my cheek pressed to her thigh, and her hand was resting on my shoulder. "This is nice," I said with my eyes glued to the screen.

"It is, isn't it?" she sighed. We fell silent and I sighed contentedly. I was wearing that sweater I bought with John and a pair of grey leggings. My hair was wild and loose. It had grown another few inches and hung like a curtain along my spine. Annette had dyed her hair again, and it was now a vibrant red. I loved it because it made her eyes pop. She was wearing an old shirt and a pair of cotton shorts. I rolled onto my back and looked up at her with a smile. "What do you think Mycroft is doing?" I asked.

"He's visiting his parents," she replied.

"I wonder if his mummy is doting on him," I sighed.

"Undoubtedly," she said with a grin.

"I would love to meet his mummy," I said excitedly.

"He wouldn't let you?"

"No, he refused," I pouted.

"Well, he is quite stubborn," she sighed. I rolled my eyes and grinned up at her. She looked at me for a few moments before shifting her gaze back to the telly. I closed my eyes and relaxed, and my memories fluttered again.

I opened my eyes and immediately grinned. It was the first time Annette and I had kissed. She looked so nervous, but immediately melted when I pulled her hip against mine. I pressed my lips to hers confidently, and she lifted her hands to tangle them in my hair. I smiled against her lips when she began to kiss me back. She tasted fantastic and her lips were soft. I tilted my head a bit to the left, and she reacted immediately. Her lips parted and I easily slipped my tongue between her teeth. I pulled her hips closer against mine and walked her back to the wall. She giggled when I pushed her up against it and I smiled at her. "You're so beautiful," I sighed and leaned back to her mouth.

I was dragged out of my memories with the sound of a door slamming open. I opened my eyes and frantically searched the room. A figure stumbled into the room and slammed the door shut. "I'm back," the figure said in a singsong voice. I recognized it as Ethan. He stumbled closer to me and I shuffled away. He came close enough that I could smell the alcohol on him. It clicked in my brain, he was drunk. "I had so much fun tonight, but we're going to have so much more," he slurred.


	26. Chapter 26

**Well, I've pretty much finished writing all of the chapters I wanted to write. It turned out a lot longer than I expected. I start back at school tomorrow, so I'll try to keep updating this fic as much as possible. It's gotten to be 40 chapters, so we have a ways to go. Who knew nine episodes could turn into that. It's a bit terrifying. Keep on reading guys, and don't forget to review. It really helps me in the long run :) **

Chapter 26

The pain he caused me was excruciating. I couldn't hold back the grunts and tears that trickled down my cheeks. He had yanked me back up to a kneeling position and circled me for several minutes before setting to work. He began with beating me until my ribs ached. I grunted upon impact of his boot or fist and clenched my teeth to keep from crying out. "Where's your fire, doll? I wanna hear it," he slurred and gave a savage kick to my stomach. I grunted and gagged as I struggled to clutch my stomach. It hurt to breathe and my shallow wounds were torn open once more. "Let's talk for a bit," he slurred. I looked up at him and watched him slowly settle on the floor directly across from me. I squinted at him a bit as he studied me. "Did I break a few ribs?" he slurred.

"Yes," I wheezed out, still struggling to breathe.

"That's unfortunate," he said with his lower lip stuck out. He watched me struggle to breathe and grinned maliciously. "You look a bit uncomfortable, would you like a break?" he asked casually.

"Please," I sighed. He chuckled and stumbled to his feet to he could release my chains from the floor. I slowly stood and he tugged on the chain. "Let's go for a bit of a walk, I'll let you stop by the loo along the way," he said and towed me along. I shuffled slowly on aching legs out of the room.

True to his word, we stopped by the loo. He let me have a few minutes of privacy, and I clung to them like they were precious gems. When I stepped out of the bathroom, he produced a pair of handcuffs. "These might be a bit more comfortable," he said and slapped them on my wrists. He latched onto the chain between them and tugged me along. "I acquired this place just for this opportunity. I hope we can spend a lot of time together. No one is looking for you," he said.

"You're wrong," I grunted.

"No one cares about you. You ran away from them remember? Spent all morning roaming the streets of London all alone," he said, tugging us to a stop. I met his gaze and clenched my jaw. "John and Mycroft are looking for me," I said in a steely voice. He rolled his eyes and we continued on. I glanced around at my surroundings and hastily drew up a map of the building in my mind. It was an abandoned machinery repair shop. Rows of steel tables were set up in the main part of the building. My holding place was the room they used to rinse the machinery, hence the concrete floor and drain. He pulled me between a row of tables to the far wall and opened a door.

The door led into an office that had an old desk and chair set up in the center. "You can sleep in here," he muttered and pushed me farther into the room. He followed me and lifted a chain that was attached to the leg of the desk. He proceeded to attach it to my handcuffs and paused to gaze into my eyes. "Sleep tight," he muttered and turned to leave. I stood next to the desk and watched him leave and lock the door behind himself.

His sudden drop in mood had startled me. I had grown used to the childlike excitement he had, and this new morose manner was a drastic change. I shuffled my feet for a moment and gazed around the room. The walls were bare and a single rudimentary light hung in the center of the ceiling, directly over the desk. I studied the desk for a moment before shuffling forward to search through it. I searched the first two drawers and came up empty. The last door held something that would mean my freedom, a paperclip. I grinned and clipped it to the band of my panties. I couldn't escape now, it would just blow my cover. I couldn't unlock the door as easily, it would take time. I studied the chair next, and decided that it would be sturdy enough to sleep in. I sat with my knees tucked up to my chin and rested my cheek atop them. I closed my eyes and willed myself off to sleep.

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I don't know how long I stayed in the office, but I knew I was hungry and had to use the restroom. I paced around the desk, as far as my chain could reach, and alternated that with sitting on the desk and the chair. I was bored and exhausted. My body ached from the blows it had taken, and it was hard to breathe with my bruised ribs. I had lifted my tanktop more than once to study to bruises flowering along my ribcage. They were in the perfect shaped of the toe of a boot or a fist. I had probed them, searching for any weakness in the bones, and found none. I was grateful for that.

I tried to occupy my time with searching every crevice of the desk, and came up with several wads of paper, an eraser, and dust. Loads of dust. I grinned at the memory of Sherlock prancing around the flat, climbing on furniture and such, examining the dust. I was finally to the point that it didn't hurt to think of him. I was healing from the trauma of seeing one of the people I care most about in this world plummet to his death. I still had nightmares, but I didn't wake up screaming or crying. They weren't every night either. It was more sporadic. I was relieved at the change.

I eventually found myself lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. I fidgeted with my shackles for a few minutes, trying to find a comfortable position. I wound up rolling onto my stomach and resting my head on my crossed arms. My stomach ached from hunger, and my tongue was getting dry. They room wasn't humid like the other one, but it was still a bit warm. I laid there with my eyes closed, listening to the building.

It was quiet, like it had been from the time Ethan had shackled me to the desk. It was an almost eerie silence, and it made me uncomfortable. I wound up focusing my attentions inward and counting my heartbeats. They were slow and even, and the constant beat helped me to relax. I counted in groups of four, not really paying attention to anything else. It was nice, well as nice as it could be. My stomach still ached and it was uncomfortable to lie on my chest. I didn't realize when I had fallen asleep.

I was jolted awake with the sound of the lock clicking open. I opened my eyes and scrambled to my feet, my brain barely registering everything happening around me. Ethan stepped confidently into the room, looking clean and well kept. I studied him as he turned to close the door. "Hello, Jamie," he said cheerfully as he turned back to face me. I remained silent with a neutral face. He held his hands behind his back, and I had a feeling he was hiding something. I met his gaze and waited for him to speak some more. "I've brought you something to eat," he said and produced a brown paper bag. I couldn't resist locking my eyes on the bag, and my stomach complained loudly. He chuckled and walked over to drop the bag on the desk. I immediately planted myself in the chair and eagerly reached for the bag. I peered inside and felt my lips tug into a small smile. There was an order of chips inside. I reached in and pulled one out and immediately ate it. It was cold, but I was so hungry I didn't care. Ethan walked over and sat on the desk to watch me scarf down the food. "I've managed to deter John Watson and Mycroft Holmes from your trail. They are searching for you, and it's to be expected. You've been with me an entire week," he said cheerfully.

"A week?" I choked out, pausing to stare openly at him.

"You were heavily sedated when we brought you in and chained you to the floor. You slept for about two days, and then we had a bit of fun for another two days. You've been in here since then. Did you not notice?" he asked ruefully. I hesitantly shook my head and continued to eat. I still had the incessant need to go to the bathroom, but my stomach didn't hurt so much anymore. "Slow down, you'll just puke it all up," he muttered and tugged the bag away a bit. I shot him a glare, and my mind reminded me that he was right. He met my gaze cooly, and I sighed and looked away. "Lets get you to the loo, and then you can come back and finish those," he said and stood from the desk.

"Thank you," I muttered as he released my handcuffs from the chain. He grinned at me and pulled me out of the room. When I was finished on the loo, I quickly guzzled down as much water as I could hold from the sink. Then, I peered at myself in the dirty mirror. My face was gaunt and I was pasty white. I lifted my tanktop and frowned at my stomach. Where once was lean muscle, boney hipbones resided, indicating signs of malnourishment and weight loss. I frowned and tugged it back down. I washed my hands quickly and walked back to the door.

He chained me back to the desk and I sat on the floor with my back against the warm metal. The room had grown unbearably warmer, and sweat dripped off my chin. Ethan sat on the desk once more and stared at me. "You're quiet," he said.

"I have nothing to say," I mumbled.

"What was that?" he asked.

"I said I have nothing to say," I said in a louder voice, my gaze meeting his over the edge of the desk coldly. He glared at me and balled his fists. "That is quite rude," he said sternly.

"I have the right to be rude. I'm here against my will, and I would like to go home. You've also beaten me pretty badly, and it's a bit uncomfortable," I said, maintaining my glare. He stood from the desk and carefully walked around so he was in front of me. I looked up at him haughtily. He glared at me for a few moments before slapping my face as hard as he could. My head snapped to the right and my mouth popped open in shock. I reached up to cup my injured cheek and slowly turned my head back to look at him. "Don't speak to me in that manner," he ordered.

"It's never nice to hit a lady," I replied cooly, which earned me another slap. I shifted my gaze to the floor, and he backed away from me. "I'll be back in a few hours. Have fun," he said in a cheery tone before swiveling around and exiting the office. I sighed softly, and curled up on the floor with my knees tucked close to my chin. My ribs didn't ache as much anymore, but the bruises were still dark and horrible. I reached down to check that my paperclip was still in place, and smiled when I found it secured exactly where I had left it. I slowly relaxed enough to slip off to dreamland once more.

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Another two weeks passed before I was finally given the opportunity to escape. He had come in every few hours and given me food and a trip to the bathroom. He had alerted me of Mycroft and John's search for me, and that they were coming closer. He planned on moving me out of London, but hadn't had the chance. He had beaten me several more times within the fourteen days, but never enough to break bones. I walked with a visible limp, and it was increasingly hard for me to breathe. When I was afforded my golden moment for escape, I took it.

Ethan had come in and given me a cup of water, and then gotten a phone call. He stepped out of the office, and I took my chance. I reached for the paperclip and hastily straightened it. I immediately stuck it in the lock on my right wrist and tried to remember what Sherlock had taught me. It had been so long since I'd picked a lock. I grinned in triumph when the lock clicked open, and immediately went for the left wrist. I glanced up frantically as I worked, and I could see Ethan pacing outside, shouting at the person who had phoned him. I smirked and maneuvered the paperclip at just the right angle, sending the lock open. I set my binds on the floor as quietly as I could and watched Ethan carefully. He paced in front of the door once more and disappeared to the right.

I stood as quietly as I could and dashed over to the doorway. I prayed to whatever being resided over the universe and peered out. He stood with his back to the office, and I grinned for a second before slipping out of the door in the opposite direction. My bare feet were silent on the concrete floor, and I moved as quickly as my injured body would allow. I glanced over my shoulder and immediately crouched behind a worktable when he turned back around and ended his call. I peered around the edge of the desk and watched him step into the office. I sprang up in the next moment and dashed in the direction I was heading. My chest ached, but I pushed on. I could see a door at the end of the aisle I was running down, and I prayed it was unlocked.

I pulled to a stop and frantically tried to open the door. Unfortunately, it was locked. I sighed in frustration and headed perpendicular to the aisle I was on. "Where are you, you little bitch?" Ethan shouted from somewhere behind me. I cringed inwardly and crouched down, continuing on as fast as possible. I heard a crash as he tried the same door I did, and pushed myself faster. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!" he shouted, hot on my trail. I glanced to the right and ducked between a row of tables. I crouched there for a few moments, attempting to catch my breath and listen to him. He was running along the wall perpendicular to me, following my trail. I could hear his angry muttering, and frequent curse words. My heart pounded in my eyes and I was sweating profusely. "When I find you, I'm going to cut you so horrifically, no one will ever want you again," he threatened loudly. I heard the click of his blade opening, and swallowed thickly. I backed away from the aisle slowly, still in a crouch, and glanced over my shoulder to make sure I wouldn't knock anything over.

I held my breath as he approached the end of my row, and prayed he would power past. I spotted him in the semi darkness of the warehouse, and I could see him fuming. "Come out willingly, and I won't hurt you," he proposed. I rolled my eyes, and watched his approach. My thighs began to burn from crouching for so long, but I ignored the pain. He walked past the end of my row, and I let out the breath I was holding as quietly and slowly as I could. I watched him walk away and turned to walk along the row of benches. I was exhausted. My body had very little energy to fuel the dashing and crouching, and I was drenched in sweat. My tanktop clung to my abdomen uncomfortably, and I could see my dark purple bruises through the white material.

I evaded capture for almost half an hour as I frantically searched for the way out of the machine shop. Ethan had finally caught me when he backed me into a corner, grinning maniacally. I had screamed and kicked at him the entire time, but he managed to pin me down on my stomach and pin me down with his knees. "You shouldn't have done that," he hissed in my ear. I screeched at him to let me go, but he just laughed. He captured my arms and pinned them behind my back before lifting me to my feet. "Let's go, doll," he said and shoved me before him. I walked with my chin up and my arms wrenched behind my back, uncomfortably.

He walked me back to the concrete room where they washed the machines and proceeded to chain me to the wall. I faced the wall with each of my wrists strung high above my head and spread uncomfortably. I was low enough that I could crouch on my knees or stand. My shoulders immediately began to burn once he released me to my devices. I leaned my forehead on the slightly damp concrete wall and listened to his movements behind me. "You've been very rude, and I don't appreciate that," he said from somewhere near the door. I let my shoulders sag and settled down on my knees, my forehead still pressed to the wall. I tried to relax, but it was extremely painful. "I'll be back soon to deal with you. I have to clean up our mess," he said and left, letting the door slam closed behind him.

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When he returned, he immediately approached me, and I turned my head to look at him. I immediately spotted the knife in his hand, and I swallowed thickly. He held my gaze for a few seconds, and I could see pure rage and malice in his eyes. He stepped forward and swiftly pushed my chest up against the concrete. I grunted in pain as my shoulders were turned awkwardly. "Let's see what we should do for your punishment," he muttered and tapped the blade on my back. I gasped when he suddenly cut through the straps of my tanktop and bra, and then sliced them down my back. The cloth fell uselessly into my lap, and I struggled to bring my knees up to cover my front. I was panicking on the inside as he slowly trailed the blade of the knife along my spine. "Let's get started," he hissed and placed a hand on my left shoulder to steady my back. My brain immediately supplied that he was going to carve into my back. I whimpered softly as he brought his other hand up and pressed the tip of the blade to the skin at the top of my back.

I was in agony as he carved into my back with his knife, and I muffled my screams in my knees. I could feel my blood pouring down my back and I could hear his gleeful sounds as he worked. They soured my stomach, and I felt like throwing up from the pain and horror. I couldn't pay attention to what he was actually carving, all I could feel was the knife slicing my skin and muscle. "Almost done, love," he said with a cheery voice. I screamed as he swiftly pressed the blade into my skin once more. Tears streamed down my face and my cries echoed around the concrete room. "All finished," he sighed happily. I continued to sob as he leaned back to admire his work. "That's quite a lot of blood, doll. I think you might just be finished. I've got nothing to staunch the flow," he said ruefully. I could hear the mocking in his voice and my pain-filled sobs died down as I slowly went into shock. My blood continued to leak from the open wounds on my shoulders, and it left hot trails down my spine.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

He left me alone in that room as the blood slowly drained from my body. I didn't struggle to free myself, I just sat there. My shoulders were sagged and the only thing holding me up was the chains on my wrists. I was settled on my knees and my chin rested on my chest. My dirty hair hung around my face, and I could see blood slowly drying in the strands. My mind blocked out the pain as my system shut down in increments. I barely registered the shouting and banging coming from the main room. My blood began to roar in my ears and my world was slowly being swallowed by inky darkness. I was dying and I was afraid. The last thing my hazy mind catalogued was the sound of the door banging open into the concrete room.

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If this is what death feels like, it's sickening. My world was a swirling pit of darkness, and I felt like I was spinning in endless circles. My head ached and my body screamed in agony. I didn't feel like I had an earthly body, but my mind still registered the pain from somewhere on the outside. It was strange that I could still feel. I was confused for most of the time I spent in that swirling pit. Occasionally sounds would send my ears ringing and lights would pop out of my murky world. The lights would be bright hues of yellow and pink and occasionally orange or red. I was so tired of spinning through this hell. I began to pray for it all to end. Just make it stop.

And it did stop, after an eternity of spinning I was sucked back into my body. I felt heavy, and I could hardly open my eyes. When I finally forced them to flutter open, my vision was assaulted by whiteness. I was lying on my front with my arms down by my sides. I glanced around the room once I had adjusted to the brightness, and I could see four walls painted a creamy white. A beeping sound was coming from somewhere over my right shoulder. I was too weak to turn my head to look at it. I began the struggle of moving my arms to lift myself up from the soft mattress I was lying on. "Oi! You stay still," a voice said from over my right shoulder and reached out to grasp my hands.

"John?" I croaked and struggled to turn my head. When I succeeded, I spotted John sitting in a chair next to me. The heart monitor was the source of the beeping, and it stood directly over his shoulder. "Hello, Jamie," he said with a wide grin.

"Wh-where am I?" I sighed and let my eyes flutter closed.

"You're at Bart's," he said. My eyes popped back open, and I squinted at him. "What happened?" I said, and cleared my throat. He gave me a rueful expression as I gazed at him with my cheek still pressed to the mattress. "I better get the nurse, she'll want to know you're awake," he said carefully and leaned to press the button on the side of my bed.

It didn't take long for a knock to sound on the door, which John responded to. I stayed still and hoped they would walk around to stand where I could see them. "Hello, dearie," a kind feminine voice said from the doorway. I listened to her footsteps as she approached John's side of the bed. I tracked her with my eyes as she came to check the heart monitor. She was a grandmotherly lady, with grey hair and kind eyes. She was shorter, and stooped a bit, but otherwise looked like a very warm person. "Hello," I croaked. She smiled at me and walked back to stand next to John. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Knackered," I mumbled. She gave me a sympathetic look and lifted the sheet that covered me to check my back. "Now, will you tell me what happened?" I sighed and stared at John.

"Well," John said and nervously scratched the back of his neck. I quirked an eyebrow at him as he fidgeted and danced around my question. "Where's Annette, then?" I sighed when I realized he wouldn't answer me.

"She's at her flat. It's the middle of the night," he replied.

"Why aren't you with Mary?" I said and squinted at him.

"I was next in the queue to sit with you," he replied vaguely. I grunted and watched the nurse putter around the room. I let my eyes flutter closed and John reached out to hold my hand. "Are you ever going to tell me what happened?" I said.

"When you're feeling better," he replied. I sighed audibly and he gave a small chuckle. "I'm all finished here, dearie. You get some more rest," the nurse said and left the room. I let go of John's hand to bend my arms and rest them underneath me. "Goodnight, John," I sighed and let my mind drift away once more.

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The next time I woke, the room was even brighter and I could hear people talking and moving around. I let my eyes flutter open and grinned lazily at Annette. "Hello, gorgeous," I croaked and her eyes locked on mine.

"Oh, my gosh," she gasped and leaned forward to grab my hand. John and Mycroft stepped up behind her and I smiled at them. My head was pounding and my shoulders ached horribly. I was still on my front, and my cheek was resting on the mattress. "How are you feeling?" John asked.

"Horrible," I mumbled.

"You've been sleeping for a long time," Mycroft said.

"How long?" I gasped and met his cool gaze.

"Two weeks," he replied. "You woke up here and there, but I doubt you remember them."

"Two weeks?" I said and squinted. "How could I have slept for two weeks?"

"You lost a lot of blood," John replied. My gaze drifted back to him before settling on Annette. She was smiling at me and I could see wetness on her cheeks. "Oi, no crying," I said and reached out to brush the tears away. She giggled and smiled at me, and I smiled back. "Am I allowed to get up?" I said and shifted my gaze back to John.

"I'll get the nurse," John sighed and pushed the button once more. I let my gaze fall on Annette once more and smiled at her. "I missed you," I sighed.

"I missed you as well," she replied with a small smile. I heard another set of feet enter the room and walk around to stand next to Mycroft. It was my nurse. "Hello, sweetie. How do you feel?" she asked.

"Nauseous," I mumbled. She sighed and patted the back of my knee. "Would you like to walk around for a bit? Just make sure to take it easy," the nurse said. I grinned eagerly and began the slow agonizing process of rising from the bed. My shoulders were tight from the massive wounds I had received. They would take a long time to heal completely, and would most definitely be scars.

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It took another two months for me to be cleared from the hospital. It was complete agony for me when they didn't let me have any pain killers. John told them of my history of smoking, and they were worried I'd become addicted to the medicine. So, I spent two whole months in the grasp of intense pain or blissful ignorance.

I finally moved out of Mycroft's house another month after I was released from the hospital. I refused to let anyone see my scars. They were ugly. Completely revolting. I couldn't even look at myself in the mirror. I always wore clothing that hid the top of my back completely. The only good news was the story of the end of Ethan.

John and Mycroft had finally located the machine shop and they got Lestrade to clear the place out. John had gone in as moral support for me, but he wound up firing the killing shot. They had gone into my concrete hell and saw my mutilated and malnourished body. Lestrade had insisted that they wait to move me until the paramedics arrived. John had stripped off his jumper to staunch the flow of blood, but not before Donovan took a few pictures of me as evidence. They had wanted to show me the case file, but I vehemently refused. I didn't want to look at his work. I would have to look at it everyday for the rest of my life.

After John had used his jumper to stop my blood from pouring down my back, Donovan stepped in to take his position. John lept up and went out to assist in the apprehending of Ethan. He wound up finding him in the bathroom, and Ethan tried to slash his face with his knife. John reflexively shot him in the chest, and that was the end of Ethan. I wouldn't ever have to look at him again.

Lestrade covered John's tracks and submitted the official report on my case. He also conducted all of the interviews, but the reporters all begged for an official statement from me. I refused. They also wanted to see my wounds. I furiously refused. It was none of the public's business. The reporters swarmed around the hospital after my release date was slipped to the public. I still have no idea who let that out. Mycroft brought eight of his goons to usher me out of the hospital and form a wall of suits against the mob of cameras and microphones.

I spent the month healing at Mycroft's, but mostly puking. The pain medicine they gave me made me incredibly nauseous. I lost all of the weight I had put on in the hospital. After a month of puking I decided to stop taking the pills and just suffer through.

I decided to move in with Annette when I finally had the last of my extensive stitching removed. It was a bit awkward at first, but we eventually found a rhythm. We slept in her bed and I took over half of her closet. We spent most of our time like a married couple, whether that be making dinner or sharing passionate kisses on the stairs. It was wonderful.

My wounds healed into bright pink lines that marred the skin of my pale shoulders. I didn't let anyone see them, not even Annette. She begged me to let her, but I refused. I was afraid she wouldn't want me after she saw them. They were completely accurate to how I felt. Ethan had carved the perfect word across the top of my back. The one word that I would use to describe myself. Broken. It was etched into my back with jagged lines and sharp corners.

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I hastily gathered the pieces of my shattered reality and attempted to put them back together the following months. I went on numerous dates with Annette, and sometimes Mary and John would join us. I visited Mrs. Hudson at Baker Street and alerted her of John's plans to come and clear out 221B. I told John I would attempt to help him. It would be hard for both of us to walk back in there and know Sherlock Holmes would not be there. He wouldn't be shouting about his boredom or conducting experiments where food is supposed to be prepared.

Inevitably, I did not go to Baker Street with John. I spent the day organizing my things at Annette's flat. I was living out of my case for a long time, and then dumped it out on the floor. I finally found the time and motivation to put everything where it was supposed to go. I refused to allow Annette to help me because it wasn't her mess. She spent the day sitting on our bed, watching me sort my things. She cradled a cup of tea in her hands and sat cross legged. Her bright red hair hung down around her shoulders. "John is going to ask Mary to be his wife today," I said as I folded a skirt.

"Really?" she replied happily.

"Yeah, he's going to visit Baker Street, and then take her to Marylebone Road. He's requested that I remain silent until she mentions the engagement, in case he chickens out," I smirked. "And Mycroft has been away for ages. I find myself missing him."

"I enjoy having this free time to spend with you," she replied with a cheeky smile. I rolled my eyes at her and continued to work. "That's the Jamie I want to see," Annette sighed softly, happily. I glanced up at her quizzically. "You've changed so much these past two years, sweetheart. I find myself missing your smile and that mischievous twinkle in your eyes," she sighed and set her cup down on the nightstand. I frowned and looked down at my lap. "I'm sorry," I whispered, barely loud enough for her to hear.

"Oh, love, there's nothing to be sorry about. You've been ruined emotionally. Completely ruined. It wasn't your fault at all," she sighed and climbed off the bed to sit across from me. She mirrored my position and our knees touched. "You've got scars, physically and mentally. They need time. You need time, and I'm willing to wait," she said while clasping my fingers. I looked up at her and felt a tear slide down my cheek. I hastily reached up to wipe it away, but she caught it. "You're trying so hard to be strong. No emotion. If you keep it locked up inside, you'll never feel any better," she said and reached out her free hand to cup my cheek. I reached up and twined my fingers with her hand against my face and gave her a small smile. "I'm trying so hard to be brave," I sighed. She nodded and leaned forward to press a light kiss to my lips. "Now, get back to work, you," she said and leapt to her feet before I could kiss her again. I giggled and reached for another article of clothing.

I worked for as long as possible, and Annette eventually grew bored and went to the kitchen to make dinner. I wound up falling asleep on the pile of clothes that had yet to be sorted, much to Annette's chagrin. "Wake up, dinner is ready," she said and rolled me over onto my back. I groaned and lifted my arm to shield my eyes. She sighed and straddled my hips so she could pry my arm from my face. I reluctantly let her pull my arm away and reached out to cup the back of her neck. I pulled her down and swiftly kissed her. She braced her hands on either side of my head and caressed my lips with hers. I smiled and brushed my fingertips along her ribs. "You taste good," I said against her lips.

"Well, dinner will taste better," she sighed and leaned back. I grinned at her and waited for her to get up. She reached out a hand and pulled me up as well. We held hands as we walked out of the bedroom and down the hall into the sitting area. She released my hand to head into the kitchen while I walked toward the table.

"Thank you, gorgeous," I said when she placed a plate in front of me.

"You're very welcome," she replied and sat down wit her own plate. We ate in comfortable silence, and she was incorrect about her earlier statement. She tasted much better than dinner. And it was delicious. She made a stew her aunt used to make before Annette moved away from her when she was nine. I loved when she made her old family recipes because I felt like she was giving me little pieces of her past to cherish. And I did indeed cherish them.

After we finished eating, I helped her clear the dishes. I dried and put the various plates and such away while she washed them. We worked easily as a team, and soon made our way back to the bedroom so I could resume my work. "I'm going to help you," she said and began picking up the clothes I sorted to go into the closet. I sighed and reluctantly let her assist me.

"This is actually going a lot faster," I sighed as she bent to scoop up another stack of folded clothes.

"I know," she replied and smirked at me. I grinned back at her and folded a pair of leggings. We worked for few more hours until she was too tired to continue. "Come to bed," she sighed and climbed onto the bed.

"I'm not tired," I replied quietly. She frowned at me from under the covers. "I'll just go get some tea at that cafe down the street. I don't want to keep you up," I muttered and stood. I walked over and pressed a kiss to her temple before turning and walking out of our bedroom. I gathered up my coat and pulled it on before walking over and slipping on my shoes. I then grabbed my phone and keys and stuck them in my pocket as I walked out of our flat. I made sure to shut the door and lock it behind me before walking down the hallway and to the stairs.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

I sat in the dim cafe with my back to the door and sipped a cup of tea. I was at my usual table, in the far back corner of the room. I didn't want to be bothered, and everyone in the room seemed to understand that. I heard the chime as the door opened and allowed a few more patrons in. I didn't bother to turn my head, and continued to relax in my seat and sip my tea. It was quite dark outside, and I wondered if Annette was asleep. I hoped she was because she stayed up most nights with me. I hardly slept anymore because I always had nightmares. I was plagued by them and would wake up screaming.

I stood and headed to the loo, abandoning my cup. I walked in and listened to the door open and close behind me. When I was finished my business, I ran into Mary. "Oh, hello," I said with a smile. She looked back at me with wide eyes. "Jamie," she said, seeming to recover. I nodded to her and went to wash my hands. She stood in the center of the bathroom and stared at me in the mirror. I looked up at her and frowned. "What's wrong?" I asked and went to dry my hands.

"I think you should see for yourself," she said quietly. I squinted at her and she went to open the door. I stepped out and dug in my pocket for my phone as I followed her into the main room. Finally finding it, I pulled it out and looked up. I spotted John immediately and he looked back at me with wide eyes. I then let my eyes roam over his shoulder to the man seated at the table across from him. My stomach dropped just as fast as my phone as it slipped from my grasp. "Y-y-you," I whispered, my lips quivering and my hands shaking. Mary stepped up beside me and placed her arm around my waist, seeming to support me. My knees shaking as I stared with wide eyes. "Hello, Jamie," he said with a hesitant smile.

"You're not real," I said and turned my back on their table. I hastily rubbed my eyes and glanced back over my shoulder. He was still there. "No," I sighed and turned back. "Mary." She placed a hand on my shoulder and pulled, attempting to turn me. I let her. My entire body was cold with pure shock and my eyes watered from not blinking for so long. "Short version, not dead," he said. I studied his eyes, and realized that they were the same blue-grey I had missed for two years. "Two years. You died. I watched you die. You jumped off the roof. You. Aren't. Real," I hissed, anger replacing my shock. I balled my fists and slowly stepped toward their table. "I can explain everything," he said and raised his hands defensively. Mary trailed behind me as my rage slowly grew. "You let us mourn you. It hurt so bad. I watched you die," I said in a surprisingly small voice. I stood directly over John's shoulder, my eyes locked on the one man I had believed I'd never see again. Sherlock Holmes.

"Jamie, please," he said quietly, his hands still up. His clever eyes had easily picked out my growing rage, and he was attempting to dissipate it. "No," I said angrily. "You don't get to do that. Two years, Sherlock Holmes," I said and his name was sour on my tongue. I felt wetness on my cheeks and used my right hand to wipe them away. "I can't do this," I sighed and spun around to head back to the bathroom. We were attracting the attention of the other patrons, and I didn't enjoy it.

I stepped into the bathroom and immediately approached the sink. I leaned heavily on my hands and let my head hang. I struggled to process what I had seen. It was unbelievable. He was alive and breathing. Sitting at a table in my new favorite cafe. My stomach twisted painfully and I closed my eyes.

I opened them again when the door creaked open. I looked up in the mirror and saw Sherlock standing several feet away with his hands behind his back. I squinted at him as he gave me a rueful smile. "Go away," I sighed and let my head fall.

"I have been, for two years," he replied. I grunted angrily and refused to meet his gaze. "John and Mary are waiting for us," he said carefully. I sighed and slowly straightened up before following him out of the room.

We sat at their table and we were all facing Sherlock. I stared angrily at the table with my arms wrapped around my stomach. John and Mary had identical positions with their arms crossed and leaned back in their chairs. "I calculated that there were thirteen possibilities once I'd invited Moriarty onto the roof," Sherlock was explaining. "I wanted to avoid dying if at all possible. The first scenario involved hurtling myself into a parked hospital van filled with washing bags. Impossible. The angle was too steep. Secondly, a system of Japanese wrestling…."

"You know, for a genius, you're remarkably thick," John interrupted.

"What?"

"We don't care how you faked it, Sherlock. We want to know why," I said tightly with my jaw clenched.

"Why? Because Moriarty had to be stopped," Sherlock said, completely perplexed. I galred at the table, and he noticed my expression. "Oh, why… as in…" he said and lifted a finger and pointed at us. "I see. Yes. Why? That's a little more difficult to explain," Sherlock said nervously.

"I've got all night," I said, my voice low and dark with anger.

"Actually, uh, that was mostly Mycroft's idea," he began.

"So, it was your brother's plan?" John cut in.

"He would have needed a confidant," Mary supplied and pointed at Sherlock. John and I both gave her dark looks, and she trailed off. "Sorry," she said timidly.

"But he was the only one? The only one who knew?" John said and turned back to Sherlock. I lifted my gaze and he immediately met my eyes. He closed his eyes briefly and said with a bit of lament, "Couple of others." I sent him a dark glare and John lowered his head. "It was a very elaborate plan- it had to be. The next of the thirteen possibilities…."

"Who else?" I whispered desperately. I looked up at Sherlock and he hesitated. "Who else knew?" I demanded. He continued to hesitate. "Who?" I demanded louder.

"Molly,"

"Molly?" I said incredulously.

"Jamie," Mary hissed and reached for me.

"Molly Hooper, and some of my homeless network," he continued. "That's all."

"Right," I said thickly and sat up a bit. "So, just your brother, Molly Hooper, and a hundred tramps." Sherlock chuckled and my anger grew. I was glaring at him, and he took no notice. Mary was slowly reaching for me to try and stop my rage. "No! Twenty-five at most," Sherlock said with mirth. I launched myself across the table and grabbed his lapels. He reached up to steady me at my ribs and stared at me wide eyed. I slammed my fist into his face, splitting his lip. Mary managed to pull me off and locked her arms around me. I struggled against her and John stepped in. He was visibly shaking, but he was containing his rage better than I. Sherlock straightened his coat as he stood and lead the way out of the cafe. John practically carried me out while I struggled and Mary trailed behind us.

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We relocated to a kebab place, and we all stood leaning on the counter. Sherlock had removed his coat and was attempting to staunch the blood from his split lip. "You're seriously going to keep that?" he asked John, gesturing to the mustache he had grown.

"Yeah," John said and cleared his throat.

"You're sure?"

"Mary likes it,"

"Mmmmm, no she doesn't,"

"She does,"

"She doesn't," he replied. John glanced at Mary briefly and then did a double take. Mary made apologetic noises and John looked shocked. "Oh! Brilliant," John said and attempted to cover his mustache. I giggled a bit and Sherlock looked happily at me. I immediately stopped and his face fell. "I've really missed this," John said sarcastically. "This is charming!" He stepped into Sherlock's space. "One word, Sherlock. That's all I would have needed. One word to let me know you were alive," he said desperately.

"I've nearly been in contact, so many times, but…" Sherlock said quietly. John cut him off with a laugh. "I was worried that, you know, you might say something indiscreet." Sherlock continued.

"What?"

"Well, you know, let the cat out of the bag,"

"Oh, so this is my fault?" John said angrily and stepped closer. Mary laughed with disbelief while I joined John in a silent wall of anger. I stood with my spine straight and my fists balled. "Why am I the only one who thinks this is wrong- the one reacting like a human being?" John shouted angrily. I shifted my gaze to him, but his eyes were locked on Sherlock's. "Over-reacting," Sherlock muttered.

"Over- reacting?" John said incredulously.

"John!" Mary said.

"'Over-reacting'. So you fake your own death…." John said, still shouting.

"Shh!"Sherlock hissed.

"... but I'm not supposed to have a problem with that, no, because Sherlock Holmes thinks it's a perfectly okay thing to do!" John started quietly but slowly began to shout once more.

"Shut up, John! I don't want everyone knowing I'm still alive!" Sherlock shouted.

"Oh, so it's still a secret, is it?" John shouted. I shifted my gaze between them as they argued then glanced around the room. People were beginning to stare. "Yes, it's still a secret!" Sherlock said loudly. He followed my gaze and saw the others staring. "Promise you won't tell anyone?" he said casually.

"Swear to God!" John said angrily, his voice dripping with sarcasm. John glanced around at the other patrons and backed down, blowing out a long breath. Sherlock shifted his gaze to me and met my hard stare. He stepped closer to me and leaned a little so we were on equal ground. "It was so very important that I died," he whispered to me. I stared back at him, struggling to hold a neutral expression. "I know what has happened to you in my absence. Mycroft told me everything," he continued. He met my gaze for a few quiet moments while Mary and John looked on. My mouth moved as I struggled to form the words I wanted to say. i couldn't speak, and it was like my lungs weren't working anymore. I sucked in a deep breath and sealed my lips. "London is in danger, Jamie, John. I need your help," he said softly and shifted his gaze between us. John stepped up beside me and we shared a bewildered glance. "Our help?" John said skeptically. Sherlock looked at us and his eyes narrowed as he deduced us. "You have missed this. Admit it. The thrill of the chase, the blood pumping in your veins, just the three of us against the rest of the world," Sherlock said quietly, happily. John grabbed his lapels and leaned back to headbutt him savagely.

We were kicked out of the shop, and I stood on the curb a bit away from Mary and John. Sherlock stood beside me with his head tipped back and a bloody tissue pressed to his nose. "You know you deserve every ounce of pain from us," I muttered savagely.

"I had to," he replied. I made an irritated noise and scuffed my boot on the concrete. "I'm so angry at you," I mumbled and stared out at the street. Sherlock hesitantly settled a hand on my shoulder to spin me towards him, but I shrugged him off. "I don't understand," he said. "I said, I'm sorry. Isn't that what you're supposed to do?"

"You seem to have forgotten what human nature is like," I replied thickly, shifting my gaze to him. I could see John and Mary over his shoulder and they were whispering softly. "Mm? Human nature, no, never understood that," he replied and pinched the bridge of his nose. I sighed quietly and scuffed my boot again. "I'm going home," I said and turned to walk away.

"Jamie!" John called after me. I stopped in my tracks and listened to him run after me. "Where are you going?" he asked when he pulled up beside me.

"Home. To hopefully have angry sex with Annette," I mumbled and balled my fists. John chuckled quietly and turned when Mary and Sherlock joined us. I looked at Mary for a moment before looking up at Sherlock. I stood for a few moments, my gaze drifting between the three, before I turned on my heel and trudged down the street once more. I listened to Mary tell the boys to let me go before I turned a corner and headed towards the building that housed our flat.

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I made it a point to not check my phone every thirty seconds for a text from Sherlock. I didn't want to see him. I was so violently angry at him. He killed himself in front of John and I, and then decided to waltz back into our lives like nothing had happened. Like the past two years hadn't happened. I sat in the tub and lowered myself until I was totally immersed. I held my breath as long as I could, and then resurfaced with a gasp. Annette was at work, and I was completely bored. I rolled onto my stomach and submerged myself again. John and Mary were at work as well. I assumed Mycroft was busy, so that left Molly Hooper.

I was mad at everyone in general. Everyone who knew he was alive and could have given me a bit of hope. I had despaired for two years. And within those two years my weight had fluctuated severely through my refusal to eat and Mycroft forcing me to. I had missed several nights of sleep, and it was unbearable to me. I resurface with another gasp and listened to my phone ring. "Shut up!" i shouted at it, but it refused to listen to me. I heaved a sigh and climbed out of the tub. I wrapped myself in a dressing gown and grabbed my phone. "Hello?" I sighed.

"Sherlock just asked me to meet him," Molly said from the other end.

"That's wonderful," I said and rolled my eyes.

"Do you know what he wants?" she asked.

"No. What am I? His mummy?" I muttered darkly.

"No," she said slowly.

"Then, have fun with him," I mumbled and hung up. I tossed my phone onto the counter of the bathroom and turned to drain the tub. I then stepped into the bedroom and curled up on top of the bed. I hugged my knees and felt my dressing gown slip off my shoulders. I ignored it and closed my eyes. I finally fell asleep after days of staying awake.

I jerked awake when I felt soft fingertips trail over my scars. "No!" I hissed and flipped over, pinning the individual flat to the mattress. I captured their wrists and pinned them above their head. My eyes focused and I could see Annette's hesitant smile. "Sorry" she whispered. I gave her a vicious look before releasing her wrists. She brought her hands down and placed them on the tops of my thighs. "I heard that Molly Hooper is Sherlock's new partner," she said. I rolled my eyes. "He's desperate. He needs someone there to listen to his genius. Stroke his ego. It doesn't have to be me anymore. I've got you now," I said softly and leaned forward to kiss her. She responded delightedly before breaking away and giving me a sympathetic look. "You miss him," she said. I heaved a long sigh and rested my forehead on hers. "I have you now," I insisted. She sighed and tipped her head to press a kiss to the corner of my mouth. I let her go and rolled onto my back beside her.

Night fell over London and my phone rang once again. It was Mary. "Come to Baker Street! It's John," Mary's voice said frantically.

"I'll be there soon," I replied and jumped up. I let my dressing gown fall and hastily pulled on my clothes. "I have to go. It's John. Mary needs me," I said to Annette and stuffed my feet into my boots. They were light enough I could run in them, but tough enough to withstand wear and tear. I grabbed my phone, wallet, and keys and pressed a quick kiss to her lips before running out of the flat.

I hailed a taxi with ease and directed them to Baker Street. When I arrived, I paid the driver and flipped through my keys to get to the one to the building before sticking it in the lock. It turned easily and I walked through the front door. I let the door close behind me and dashed up the stairs and into 221B. I walked in on Sherlock and Mary conversing. Mrs. Hudson stood to my left. "Mrs. Hudson," I said happily and pressed a kiss to her cheek before approaching Mary and Sherlock. "Who's got John?" I asked.

"I don't know, but I got a text," Mary replied. Sherlock was looking at her phone, and I avoided looking at him. "It's a skip code," Mary said.

"We have to go. Now!" Sherlock said and dropped his bag of chips. I watched them race out of the door before following. "Jamie! Get Lestrade," Sherlock shouted as he dashed into the street. Molly followed and they stood there. A motorbike skidded to a halt as Sherlock stood with his hand outstretched. He talked to the driver and passenger. They quickly gave up their bike and helmets and Sherlock and Mary jumped on. They sped off down the street. I watched them go before pulling out my phone. I pressed speed-dial, and Lestrade picked up immediately. "John has been taken. Sherlock is on it, but I have no idea what they're speeding off in to. They're heading to Saint James the Less Church. So, do your thing," I said quickly.

"Saint James the Less Church?" Lestrade clarified.

"Yes," I said quickly.

"I'll pick you up, it's on the way," he said and I could hear his car through the phone.

"Ta," I said and hung up. He turned onto Baker Street a few minutes later and I climbed into the passenger seat. "Hello," I said as he flipped on the lights and launched out into the traffic. We made it to the church just as the massive fire was at its peak. I could hear shouting, and immediately picked out Sherlock's voice. I launched out of the car and ran across the grass towards the fire. Sherlock was digging through it and then grabbed onto a large mass. I squinted at it and identified it as John. Sherlock hauled him out and pulled him far from the fire. We all crowded around him as the crowd looked on. "John? John!" Sherlock shouted. His eyes were open and he looked dazed. I reached forward and slapped his cheeks. "John, focus," I called. Mary was sobbing beside me and I curled my free arm around her. "Hey, John," Sherlock said as John focused on him. I smiled at him and John seemed to zone out.

The next morning, John came by Annette's so we could go to Baker Street together. I shared a lingering kiss with Annette before taking John's arm and following him out the door. "How are you feeling?' I asked as we descended the stairs.

"Much better," he replied. We stepped out onto the curb and hailed a taxi. It took a few tries, but we eventually succeeded. "Baker Street," John said as we climbed in. The taxi merged into traffic and I settled in for the short ride. "So, how are you and Annette getting on?" John asked.

"We're good. I'm happy," I said and looked over at him.

"That's great. Mary and I are doing great," John replied.

"Wonderful," I said with a smile. "Can we stop avoiding the elephant?" John gave me a rueful smile and nodded. "He hurt us. Are we going to forgive him?" I said.

"I don't know," John said softly.

"It seems like we already are. We're at his beck and call once more," I muttered. John chuckled just as we pulled to a stop outside Speedy's. He paid the fare and we climbed out. I linked our arms once more and we walked up to our old building. "I don't miss living here," I muttered as I unlocked the door. John chuckled once more and we stepped inside and ascended the stairs.

We walked in and spotted Sherlock standing on the couch between an elderly couple. "Jamie! John!" Sherlock said, completely elated. I glanced at him before shifting my gaze around the room. "Sorry- you're busy," John said.

"No-no-no, they were just leaving," Sherlock said and stepped down. He grabbed the woman and pulled her up. "Oh, were we?" she said. John and I stepped out of the way and watched him hustle them out. "Well, if you've got a case…" I said.

"No, no not a case," Sherlock said and then turned to the woman. "Go, 'bye."

"Yeah, well, we're here until Saturday," the woman said.

"Yes, great, wonderful, get out," Sherlock said. He herded them to the door and I tracked them with my eyes. "Well, give us a ring," she said.

"Very nice, yes, good, get out," Sherlock said. He ushered them out and closed the door, but his process was impeded by a foot. He opened the door and the woman continued speaking. It was muffled by the door and Sherlock's body. "Oh, for God…" Sherlock said and slammed the door with a grimace. I quirked an eyebrow and drummed my fingertips on my thighs. "Sorry about that," Sherlock said as he spun back to us.

"No, it's fine. Clients?" John asked.

"...Just my parents," Sherlock said. My eyebrows shot up and I grinned. "Your parents?" I said excitedly.

"Mycroft promised to take them out to the matinee of _Les Mis_. Tried to talk me into doing it," Sherlock replied. I giggled and walked over to the window to watch them leave. "What?" Sherlock said at John's look and my quiet laughter.

"They're so…. ordinary," I said and turned to look at him. John grinned at me and him and Sherlock tutted. "It's a cross I have to bear," he muttered. John chuckled and took a few steps into the room. "Did they know, too?" John asked suddenly, with a pointed look at me. I walked over and stood next to him. "Hmm?" Sherlock said, not meeting our eyes.

"That you spent the last two years playing hide and seek," I clarified.

"Maybe," Sherlock said and picked at his laptop.

"Ah! So that's why they weren't at the funeral," John said. I let my gaze drift to him before dropping it to the floor. I scuffed my boot and sighed quietly. Sherlock apologized once more. John turned to leave before halting and turning back to Sherlock. "See you've shaved it off then," Sherlock said.

"Yeah. Wasn't working for me," John replied. I smirked at the floor. "Mm, I'm glad," Sherlock replied.

"What, you didn't like it?" John asked. I suppressed a giggle and raised my eyes to catch John's look. "No, I prefer my doctors clean-shaven," Sherlock said.

"And you, Jamie?" John asked. I scratched my arm uncomfortably and refused to meet his eyes. "You looked like my grandad," I replied quietly. Sherlock chuckled and I suppressed a smile. "How are you feeling?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah, not bad. Bit…. smoked," John replied.

"Right,"

"Last night- who did that. And why did they target me?"

"I don't know. I can't see the pattern. It's too nebulous," he replied and walked towards the wall. It was covered in bits of information and string. I turned and went sit on the sofa. "Why would an agent give his life to tell us something incredibly insignificant? That's what's strange," Sherlock said. John stepped up beside him. "'Give his life'?" John asked.

"According to Mycroft. There's an underground network planning an attack on London- that's all we know," Sherlock explained. "These are my rats." I stood from the sofa and walked over to stand on his other side. "Rats?" I asked.

"My markers: agents, low lifes, people who might find themselves arrested if their diplomatic immunity suddenly rescinded. If one of them starts acting suspiciously, we know something's up. Five of them are behaving normally, but the sixth…." Sherlock said and pointed to a picture. I studied it and turned back to Sherlock. "I know him, don't I?" John said.

"Lord Moran, peer of the realm, Minister of Overseas Development. Pillar of the establishment," Sherlock explained.

"Right," I said.

"He's been working for North Korea since 1996," Sherlock replied.

"What?" John asked.

"He's the Big Rat. Rat Number One. And he's just done something very suspicious indeed," Sherlock said. I shedded my coat as I turned to head into the kitchen. I began making tea as Sherlock grabbed his laptop and brought it to the table. He showed John some footage of a man disappearing off the tube, and I identified him as Lord Moran. "Yeah.. that's odd. There's no where he could have gotten off?" John said as the video finished.

"Not according to the maps," Sherlock replied. John hummed and continued to watch the tape. I hovered over his other shoulder and sipped tea from my favorite cup. "There's something, something- something, I'm missing, something staring me in the face," Sherlock said. He turned away and his phone chimed. He pulled it out as John questioned him about the underground network. "Intelligence must have a list of the most obvious ones," John said.

"Our rat's just come out of his den," Sherlock said as he peered at his phone. John began listing known terrorist networks, and I was only half-listening. "Yes, yes, yes, yes! I've been an idiot, a blind idiot!" Sherlock shouted in triumph.

"What?" I said with a quirked eyebrow.

"Oh, that's good, that could be brilliant," Sherlock said while he began to pace.

"What are you on about?" I said. John turned to look at him as well. "Mycroft's intelligence- it's not nebulous at all. it's specific- incredibly specific," Sherlock continued.

"Sherlock, what do you mean?" I said sternly.

"Not an underground network, an Underground network," Sherlock said vaguely.

"Right….. continue," I said and waved my hand after setting my cup down beside John.

"Sometimes a deception is so audacious, so outrageous that you can't see it even when it's staring you in the face," Sherlock said. He stepped forward and leaned over John's shoulder to replay the tape. "Look- seven carriages leave Westminster….. but only six carriages arrive at St. James's Park," Sherlock explained as the tape played.

"But, that's impossible," I said.

"Moran didn't disappear, the entire Tube compartment did. The driver must have diverted the train and the detached the last carriage," Sherlock said.

"Detached it where? You said there was nothing between those stations," I said.

"Not on the maps, but once you eliminate all other factors, the only thing remaining must be the truth. The carriage vanished, so it must be somewhere," Sherlock said and gestured to the screen.

"But why, though? Why detach it at all?" John asked. Sherlock began to pace and repeated all of the important facts. They recited the first few lines of the traditional Guy Fawkes rhyme, and I smirked. Sherlock grabbed his laptop and opened up his skype. I picked up my cup of tea and finished it as I walked to the sink. "Really, Sherlock?" I sighed when I saw about an inch of blood in the bottom.

"What?" Sherlock said without looking up.

"Experiments," I sighed and set the cup on the edge of the sink. I walked back to the table and leaned over his shoulder as he called a man named Howard Shilcott. Sherlock and John gathered up maps of the tube system and scattered them across the table. "There's nothing down there, Mr. Holmes, I told you. No sidings, no ghost stations," Howard said. I walked around to stand over the boys' shoulders and peered at the maps. "There has to be, check again," I said and picked up one of the maps out of Sherlock's grasp. He glared at me as I peered at the map. "The whole area is a mess. It's a mix of old and new stuff," I said and traced my finger along the tube.

"St. Margaret's Street, Bridge Street, Sumatra Road, Parliament Street…" Sherlock said, listing off names from the map I was holding.

"Hang on, hang on, you mentioned Sumatra Road, Mr. Holmes. There is something, I knew it rang a bell. There was a station down there," Howard said.

"Why isn't it on the maps?" John asked. I laid down the map I was holding on top of the others and we studied it collectively. "It was closed before it was ever opened," Howard replied.

"What?" John asked.

"They built the platforms, the staircases, but it got all tied up in legal disputes. They never built the station on the surface," he said and held up a book to the page showing the station.

"It's directly under the Palace of Westminster," Sherlock said and straightened up.

"What's down there? A bomb?" John asked. Sherlock grabbed my arm and pulled me along behind him. He laced our fingers together as we descended the stairs, and I couldn't help the feeling of relief that flooded my system. John followed us and we made our way to the Houses of Parliament.

"So it's a bomb then? A tube is carrying a bomb," John said as we walked. I was still holding his hand, and I could feel a few envious stares. "Must be," Sherlock replied. John hummed and pulled out his phone. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"Calling the police,"

"What? No," Sherlock said.

"Sherlock, this isn't a game. They need to evacuate Parliament," he replied.

"They'll get in the way. They always do. This is cleaner, more efficient," Sherlock said. He pried open a locked gate with a crowbar and we stepped inside. "And illegal," I muttered.

"A bit," he said. He closed the gate behind us and grasped my hand as he pulled out his flashlight. John grabbed his and we walked along the tunnel. We walked for a long time, climbing down various ladders and through small tunnels. I dropped his hand when my fingers began to get sweaty, and I could see him glance at me. "You all right?" John asked and brushed his fingertips on my back.

"What? Yeah," I said and rubbed the back of my neck. My skin was crawling with my nerves and I shivered involuntarily. We continued on until we reached the station. They shined the lights along the track, but it was empty. "I don't understand," Sherlock said.

"Well, that's a first," John said sarcastically. I stood in the center of the platform with my arms wrapped around my middle while they looked around. "There's nowhere else it could be," Sherlock said. He approached me and grabbed my cheeks. I met his gaze and saw he was thinking. "Oh!" he said as his eyes snapped open and he turned on his heels to run toward the end of the platform. I followed him and watched him jump down onto the track. "Isn't it… live?" I said as he reached out to help me.

"Don't touch the rails," Sherlock said. He grabbed my hips and easily lifted me down. John jumped down behind us and we began to walk into the tunnel. I carefully avoided the rails as we walked. We moved around a soft bend, and the missing carriage was revealed. "Ah," Sherlock said. We walked towards the car and he stopped to shine his light up into a large vent. We all looked up and spotted a series of small explosives lining the vent. "Oh," I gasped.

"Demolition charges," John said carefully. I swallowed thickly and Sherlock turned to approach the carriage. I hurried after him and John followed close behind.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

We carefully inspected the carriage from the outside before stepping in through the driver's compartment. The boys proceeded into the main part carefully and inspected every inch while I peered around the driver's portion. "There's nothing," I said and stepped into the main area.

"It's empty," John agreed.

"Isn't there?" Sherlock asked. He gently lifted the cushions of a row of seats and John shone his torch on him. We watched him work, and I slowly shuffled my weight between my feet and bit my lip nervously. "This is the bomb," Sherlock said.

"What?" John asked. Sherlock stood and lifted the entire cushion up, revealing wires and explosives. "The whole carriage is the bomb," Sherlock said ominously. We worked along the entire length of the carriage once more, lifting seats to reveal identical bombs. Sherlock stepped along the aisle and realised a panel in the floor was loose. He removed his gloves and crouched to lift the panel. I sucked in a deep breath as a massive bomb was revealed. "We need bomb disposal," John said.

"There's no time for that," Sherlock said, his gaze locked on the bomb. I slowly lifted my hands to rub my chin. "What do we do?" I asked.

"I have no idea," Sherlock said after a brief pause.

"Well, think of something," I said and flailed my hands.

"Why do you think I know what to do?" Sherlock said.

"Because you're you. You're as clever as it gets," I said with a pointed stare.

"Doesn't mean I know how to diffuse a giant bomb. What about you?" he said and gestured to both of us.

"I wasn't in bomb disposal. I'm a bloody doctor," John scoffed. I swallowed thickly and slowly crouched down. "And a soldier, you keep reminding us all," Sherlock said.

"And not gay," I chimed in with a small smirk. He gave me a dark look and Sherlock shifted his gaze between us. "Can't we rip the timer off or something?" I asked.

"That would set it off," Sherlock said.

"You see? You know things," John said. Sherlock sighed and looked away from us. I slowly lowered myself to sit cross legged, my movements careful and hesitant. Suddenly, all the lights flashed on and the timer began the countdown. Sherlock started to pace around while John shouted that he do something. "Why didn't you call the police?" I said and stood to with my hands wrapped around my middle.

"Well, it's no use now," Sherlock scoffed.

"So, you can't switch the bomb off and you didn't call the police," John said and turned to look at me before looking back at Sherlock.

"Go, Jamie, John. Go, now," he said and gestured to the door.

"There's no time to get away," I said and gestured to the bomb. "Other's will die regardless. We have to do this." I looked up at Sherlock and our gazes locked. "Mind Palace," I said.

"What?" he asked.

"Use your Mind Palace," I said.

"How will that help?" he scoffed.

"You've sorted away every fact under the sun," John chimed.

"Oh, and you think I've got 'How to Diffuse a Bomb' tucked away in there somewhere?" Sherlock said.

"Yes," I cried and waved my fingers. "Just look!"

"Maybe," he said and brought his fingers up to his temples. He screwed his eyes shut and I carefully approached him. "Think, you git," I said and added my hands over his. He started to make incoherent groaning noises, and I sighed and let my hands drop as his eyes popped open with a desperate shout. John turned away with a sigh and Sherlock dropped to the grown and flailed his hands over the bomb. I covered my ears with my hands and took a few deep breaths. "I can't do it," Sherlock said and looked up at us.

"What?" John said.

"I'm sorry. I don't know how," he said. John slowly came up to stand beside me and Sherlock clasped his hands in front of him. "Forgive me," he begged.

"What?" I gasped.

"Forgive me… for all the pain I've caused you. Both of you," he continued. I sucked in a deep breath as tears began to leak down my face. My stomach plummeted as I watched Sherlock slowly sit and look up at us with devastation. "It's another one of your tricks. To try and get me to say something nice," John said.

"Not this time," Sherlock said with a small chuckle. I rubbed my tears away, and sucked in a deep breath. "I wanted you to be alive," I said.

"Well, be careful what you wish for," he replied. "If I hadn't come back, you would have been with Mary, John. And you, Jamie, you didn't need me ever." Sherlock sniffed and rubbed his nose. I slowly walked forward and sat on my knees in front of him. "I find it difficult, these sort of things," John said from behind us.

"I know," Sherlock said and reached his fingers out for me.

"You were the best and wisest man I had ever known," John continued. I slowly let him pull me into his grasp, and I wrapped my arms around his waist. I let out a thick sob into his neck and pulled up a memory of Annette in my mind. "Yes, of course I forgive you," John said. Sherlock let out the breath he was holding and leaned his face into my shoulder. "Jamie," he said quietly.

"You already know I forgive you," I said quietly, my voice watery with my never-ending tears. I immediately pulled back when Sherlock began laughing. I wiped my tears and stared at him darkly. "You…." I said and pointed a finger at him. He continued to giggle while John walked over and studied the bomb. It was stopped. "You arsehole," I said and punched him in the chest. He continued to laugh. "Your faces," he said and gestured to us before wiping his tears from his face as he continued to laugh. I smiled briefly and sat back on my heels. I figured it out immediately. "There's an off switch," I sighed and turned to point to it on the side of the bomb. John glared savagely at Sherlock. "You said such sweet things," Sherlock said. "I never knew you cared."

"If you ever breathe a word of this to anyone," John threatened Sherlock.

"Scout's Honor," he said with the salute. I leveled a glare at him. "You let me cry," I said darkly.

"Terrorists can get into all sorts of problems unless there's an off switch," Sherlock explained to John before shifting his gaze to me. I glared back at him and slowly stood. I wiped my tears from my cheeks and crossed my arms. "Oh, don't pout," Sherlock said with a chuckle. "I needed to know that you still cared."

"You could have asked, you cock!" I shouted back. He flinched and stood to grab my shoulders. "I'm sorry, a thousand times. You've forgiven me, though," he said. "I need that."

"You bastard," I muttered and wrapped my arms around him. He reacted immediately and I buried my face in his coat. "I'm definitely gonna kill you," John said.

"Killing me is so two years ago," Sherlock replied. I giggled and released him so we could leave the carriage. I grabbed both of their hands and we all giggled a bit as we climbed down. We walked along the tracks in a line and made our way to the surface once more.

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I sat in the sitting room of Baker Street and Annette was perched across my lap. Greg, Mary, and Mrs. Hudson were all here as well. Sherlock walked in and popped the cork on the champagne bottle. He flipped it to me and I shot him a wink as he poured. I leaned up to press a kiss to Annette's jaw and watched everyone talk happily. "We'll have to go down there and talk to them," John said and gestured to the window. Sherlock walked over and peered down at the crowd of reporters. Mrs. Hudson and Mary began talking about the upcoming wedding and I sighed. Annette shifted her gaze to me and lifted her glass of champagne to her lips. I didn't drink any, and no one minded. I closed my eyes and leaned my face into her shoulder as the door opened and everyone greeted Molly. I let my eyes pop open when she introduced her man, Tom. He snickered when I noticed he looked exactly like Sherlock and let my eyes close once more.

We eventually made it out of the room and I couldn't stop giggling. "Did you see that?" I said through my giggles.

"I'm not saying a word," Sherlock replied.

"No, best not," John said with a chuckle. I attempted to calm my giggles and grabbed my coat to pull it on. "I'm still waiting," John said. Sherlock hummed as he tied his scarf. "Why did they take me- why put me in the bonfire?" John asked.

"I don't know, and I don't like not knowing. Unlike the nicely embellished fictions on your blog, John, real life is never so neat," Sherlock said and pulled on his coat. We reached the bottom of the stairs and Sherlock hesitated to finish buttoning his coat. "I will find out, i promise you," Sherlock said.

"Don't pretend like you're not enjoying this," I said and stepped up to straighten his scarf. He sighed deeply, and fluttered his hands at it. "Being back, being a hero again," I continued and reached up to fix his hair. His curls were wild about his head, and I smirked at his impatience. "You love it, being Sherlock Holmes," I continued. I let my hands drop and smirked at him. He turned and hesitated at the coat rack. I giggled as he picked up his deerstalker and tugged it on his head. "Love that hat!" I called after him as he opened the door and met the wave of reporters.


	30. Chapter 30

**Disclaimer: I don't own or claim any royalties over Sherlock BBC**

Chapter 30

My birthday was on its way, and I had begged John and Sherlock not to make an event out of it. They, of course, didn't listen. They planned on having a party for me at Baker Street, and John decided it was a good idea to announce it on his blog. "Really, John?" I cried as I scrolled through the endless messages on the message board asking for pictures and to come. He giggled from his perch at the kitchen table and Sherlock continued to experiment in the kitchen. I closed Sherlock's laptop and stood from my chair. I approached Sherlock and thumped John on the back of his neck as I passed. "Arsehole," I muttered as he rubbed the sore spot. I walked up to Sherlock and watched him destroy the microwave once again. "Sherlock, please don't put the toes in the microwave!" I said as he spun with a large male toe pinched between the tongs of his tweezers. He stuck it in and switched it on. I groaned and leaned on the counter to watch. "So, you're okay with my party?" I asked.

"Inevitably," he murmured as he peered at the toe. I sighed and rubbed my face. "Who did you invite, John?" I asked and peered around Sherlock.

"Mary, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, Molly, Annette, Patrick, Mycroft, and your mummy," he replied. I groaned loudly and Sherlock heaved a sigh. "It's two days from now," I whined.

"Yep," John replied. I sighed loudly and watched Sherlock open the microwave and grab the toe once more. He spun around and set it on the counter and I grimaced at it. "Disgusting," I muttered. Sherlock pulled a face at me and grabbed his scalpel to cut into it. I shuddered and walked out of the kitchen.

I wound up hurtling myself onto the couch and burying my face in my arms. "Don't you have someplace to be," Sherlock asked from the kitchen.

"Annette is at work and Patrick is moving into his new flat," I said into the couch. Sherlock sighed and John stood from his chair. "Well, I have a dinner date with Mary," he said.

"Off you pop," I said and waved my hand in his general direction. He sighed and walked around the flat, gathering his things. He left with a cheery goodbye, and I rolled over on the couch. "Do I have to come to the party?" I whined.

"It's for your birthday. Usually, the owner of the birthday is required at those sort of things," Sherlock replied from the kitchen. I glared at him, but he took no notice. He was wearing safety goggles and a tan colored dressing gown over his slacks and white button-up shirt. His dark curls were wild from him maneuvering the goggles about his head. I rolled over onto my stomach once more and pulled my arms inside my shirt so I could hug my middle. I was wearing a borrowed pair of sweatpants and a solid green shirt. I had my hair up in an extremely messy bun and multi-colored socks on my feet. Sherlock sighed from the kitchen and pulled off his gloves with a snap. I opened my eyes and watched him leave the kitchen and head towards me. "What?" I said when he walked across the coffee table and stood on the couch between my outstretched legs.

"You're in my way," he said and nudged my leg with his toe. I opened my eyes and turned my head a bit to look at him. "What do you want?" I said.

"You're in my way," he repeated. I shuffled to the side a bit and he sighed. "Jamie," he said and nudged me a bit more.

"I'm not moving, Sherlock," I mumbled into the couch. He sighed and flopped down almost on top of me. I grunted and turned my head to look at him. "You're quite heavy," I said.

"You refused to move," he replied. He had his left arm draped across my shoulders and our legs were tangled together. I sighed and closed my eyes. I caught the end of his smirk and reciprocated with my eyes shut. "I hope Mrs. Hudson doesn't decide to pop in," I mumbled.

"I don't mind," he replied.

"You're not being crushed by a grown man," I replied. He hummed in agreement and we fell into silence. He eventually fell asleep with his cheek pressed against my right bicep, and I watched him sleep for a bit. I eventually fell asleep as well.

I woke up to the sound of Mrs. Hudson entering the flat with her customary "Ooh-ooh!". I opened my eyes and peered at her from underneath my massive breathing blanket. "Oh, hello," she said and giggled. She was carrying a tray of cookies and went to set them on the table. "Is he asleep?" she asked.

"Looks like it," I replied. "What time is it?"

"Almost eight," she replied.

"Could you call Annette and tell her I'm trapped," I asked.

"Of course, dear," she said and went back downstairs to call. I snuggled back into the couch cushion and Sherlock hugged me tighter in his sleep. Mrs. Hudson returned a few moments later and told me that Annette was working late tonight anyways. I nodded at her and tried to wake Sherlock so he could go to bed. "Come on," I said and struggled to free myself.

"Quit moving, couch," he mumbled in his sleep. I laughed and continued to struggle. His eyes popped open and he scowled. "Why are you still here?" he asked.

"Because you insisted on sleeping on the couch," I replied. He pushed himself up on his hands and feet and I took my chance of escape. "Time for bed," I said as soon as I got to my feet. He groaned and pushed himself to his feet as well. I grabbed his hand and towed him along behind me to his room. He rubbed his eye as we walked and yawned loudly. I opened the door to his room and pulled him toward the bed. "Are you staying?" he asked as he released my hand to climb onto the mattress. I lifted the covers and threw them over him and stood with my hands on my hips. "Well, I do have a girlfriend, and I don't think she'd like that," I replied carefully.

"Sentiment," he mumbled with his eyes closed. I giggled and leaned forward to brush his curls out of his face. "I'll be back soon," I said and he nodded. I sighed quietly and turned on my heels to leave his room.

"Jamie, wait," Sherlock called. I paused and turned back to face him. "What is your middle name?" he asked.

"Why?"

"Call it curiosity,"

"Well, that is one curiosity that won't be satisfied," I replied with a smirk. He scowled at me and rolled away. "'Bye," I called and spun back around to leave his flat. I walked down the stairs and pulled on my coat. I stuffed my feet in my boots at the door and walked out of their building.

It wasn't a long walk to Annette's, and I was soon unlocking the door to her flat. I shut it behind me and turned to face the living room. It was quiet, and it gave me the chills. I walked around the flat, flicking on the lights as I went, and then headed into the kitchen to make tea. I left a trail of clothes in my wake until I was left in my bra and borrowed sweatpants. I had stolen them from Sherlock's room when we had the great milk downpour. He wasn't paying attention and crashed into me carrying the open carton. It had covered us both, and we had laughed long enough to alert Mrs. Hudson downstairs. She came up and tutted at us for spilling the milk all over the floor and then laughing about it. She pushed us off toward his room, and I knicked his pants.

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Annette dragged me to Baker Street for my birthday party. She had to shove me inside the building, and John took over inside. "Come on, Jamie," John grunted as he pushed me towards the stairs.

"I hate parties," I hissed and braced myself on the wall and the railing of the stairs.

"Everyone is waiting for you," Annette said from behind John.

"I don't care," I grumbled. She had forced me into a black and red dress and ankle boots. I ran away when she tried to fix my hair, so it was just a mass of wild curls around my head. John continued to shove me, and I finally ran out of strength and collapsed forward on the stairs. I managed to catch myself on my hands and knees and turned to glare at John. He grinned at me and motioned for me to move on. "Fine," I snarled and stomped my way up the stairs. When I reached the top landing, I reached into Annette's purse and pulled out her video camera. "What do you need that for?" she asked me.

"My fans on John's blog want me to record the party and post it later," I replied and switched on the camera. I started to record as I walked in and everyone greeted me with the customary "Happy Birthday!". I shuffled into the room with a grin plastered on my face and accepted all of the hugs. As soon as that was over I flipped the camera around and recorded myself as I spoke. "So, to all you lot on the blog who want to know what Baker Street parties are like, here it is," I said and flipped the camera back around to record the scene. Greg, Molly, and Tom, her fiance, were perched on the couch. Mrs. Hudson was in John's chair and Patrick was sitting in a dining room chair. "Hey, big brother," I crowed and walked over to him. He stood to hug me and waved to the camera. "Where's mum?" I asked and glanced around.

"She's at home. She might pop in later," he replied.

"All right, where's Sherlock?" I asked.

"He's there," Patrick said and gestured to the window. I pointed the camera at him and he turned to glare at me. "Why are you recording this?" he asked. I walked over to him and flipped the camera around to talk to it. "Because our loyal fans want to know what life is like," I said to it and grinned to him.

"Why are you talking to it?" he asked.

"Because that's what I'm supposed to do. Now, I'm going to give a tour," I replied and flipped the camera around again. I walked into the kitchen and explained about Sherlock's incessant experiments. "He gets bored," I said. I walked back into the living room and showed them the chairs. "These are very important chairs, this is John's," I said and showed John's chair, "... and this is Sherlock's," I showed Sherlock's.

"Jamie, dear, what are you doing?" Mrs. Hudson asked from behind me.

"Say hello to Mrs. Hudson, our beloved landlady," I said and spun to show her. "She's lovely. Such a kind heart, and she's just like our mum." She giggled and waved before puttering off. I walked over to the couch and showed them it. "I spend most of my time here," I said. I spun the camera to face me once more. "You've seen everything important….. oh wait, I forgot Billy the skull," I said and gestured for Patrick to hand me Billy. He did and I brandished him to the camera. "Poor Billy unfortunately wound up sitting in this flat, collecting dust. He's a very special friend, and…." I switched to a confiding whisper "... Sherlock talks to him when we aren't here,"

"Do not," Sherlock called from behind me. I smirked and rolled my eyes and threw Billy to him and spun the camera around. "Well, I'm going to enjoy myself now, so ta," I said and panned around the room before flipping the camera off. I walked over to John and handed it to him. "Can you upload this tomorrow?" I asked. He nodded to me and set it down on the table beside him. I spun around and clapped my hands. "Pat, would you like to dance?" I said and held out my hand to him. He chuckled and grinned at me before stepping forward and taking my hand. Annette switched on some upbeat dance music and joined in on our dancing. Molly giggled as we danced and Sherlock had a sour expression on his face.

Soon after we began dancing, Mary walked in. "Mary," I crowed and walked over to hug her.

"Happy birthday, Jamie," she said. I grinned and ushered her into the room. "Would you like to dance?" I asked and gestured to Patrick and Annette twirling around the middle of the room. The lights were dimmed and the music was a bit loud. Molly popped up from the couch and dragged Tom along behind her. "We'll join you," she said and grinned before tugging Tom onto the makeshift dance floor to dance.

"I'll dance in a moment, I have to speak with John," Mary said. I nodded and sidled over to Sherlock's side. "Is this what social gatherings are supposed to be like? They're demeaning," he mumbled to me. I giggled and rolled my eyes at him. "They're fun, you just…. don't have a low enough IQ to understand why," I replied.

"Mycroft has informed me that he wishes you a happy birthday and your present will be arriving soon," he said. I grinned and wrapped my arms around my middle. "Have…. you seen… my scars?" I asked quietly. Sherlock looked over at me and tipped his head in a brief nod. I sighed and glanced at the floor. "I'm still struggling to move on. This dress is making me uncomfortable without any straps," I mumbled. Sherlock grimaced at me and glanced back at the room. "You probably saw the case file, not my actual scars," I said and rocked on my heels. "Would you like to see?"

"...I… I would," he replied.

"Right, good. Maybe when there aren't so many people around. I just want…. one person to know what they look like. You won't pass judgement on me because of them, and I trust you," I said and swept my hair back to cover my back better. He nodded once more and I glanced up when Mrs. Hudson approached us. "I'm off to bed, dearie. Have a lovely evening, and happy birthday," she said. I stepped forward to hug her and watched her leave the flat. Sherlock stepped closer to me and brushed his fingertips on my arm. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"Me? Yeah, fine, good," I said and picked at the edge of my skirt. He nodded and gestured to the people in the room. "You should… mingle," he said. I grimaced and nodded before walking off to speak to all of my guests. We had a lot of fun and a lot of alcohol was consumed, so it was a unanimous decision to sleep in Sherlock's flat. I dragged Annette and Patrick back to Sherlock's room and Sherlock followed silently. They had both drank a little bit more than they should have, and I tucked them into bed. "I can't sleep," I mumbled and followed Sherlock back into the kitchen. I slid up onto the counter and he leaned beside me. "Are you okay?" I asked when he drummed his fingertips on the counter. He nodded and glanced into the living room. Molly was curled up on the couch with her head resting on Tom's thigh. Tom was leaning on his fist with his mouth hanging open a bit. Greg was curled up on the floor with his head on his jacket. John and Mary had disappeared to John's room. "It's these times that I really need a cigarette," I muttered.

"Agreed," he mumbled back.

"Do you have any?" I asked with a smirk. He glanced around the room before turning to me with a nod. A wide grin stretched across my face and I watched him disappear into the bathroom. He came back with two and a lighter and ushered me downstairs. "Quiet," he hissed as we reached the bottom and moved toward the main door. I took a cigarette from him excitedly and followed him out the door. We stood outside and he lit my cigarette before lighting his own. I sucked in a deep, slow breath, and let it out as carefully as possible. I was savoring the feeling, and Sherlock watched me as he sucked on his own cigarette. "Any new cases?" I asked and flicked the ash off.

"We had the Hollow Client a few days ago," he replied.

"The one with the full outfit in your sitting room?" I asked before sucking in another lungful.

"That's the one," he replied. "We also had the Poisoned Giant yesterday," I blew out my smoke and rocked on my heels. "The one with the midget with the blowgun?" I asked and squinted at him. He nodded an affirmative and I smiled. "Everything is different," I mumbled and rubbed my arm nervously.

"I'm beginning to realise this," he replied. I frowned at him and finished up my cigarette. He finished his and carefully disposed of our cigarette butts and we stood in silence for a few minutes. "Are you…. happy?" Sherlock asked quietly.

"Of course I am. I have all of my favorite people back," I replied. His lips quirked up in a small smile and he tucked his arms behind his back. "That was the first cigarette I smoked in two years. It was fantastic," I said blissfully. He chuckled and nodded to me. "We should head back inside," I said. He gestured for me to lead the way, and I spun on my heels to make my way back into the building.


	31. Chapter 31

**Here's a few more chapters**

Chapter 31

"I'm going to ask Sherlock to be my best man," John said to me suddenly. I choked on the tea I was drinking and took a few deep breaths before I attempted to speak. "What?" I gasped.

"He's my best friend. I want to be up there with the people I love most in this world," he replied and shrugged. I crossed my ankles and set my cup down on the table. He had come over to mine and Annette's flat to have tea with me and discuss the wedding. "Well, it's your decision John," I said and shrugged a bit. He sipped his tea and then set it down as well. "Mary has already asked Janine to be her chief bridesmaid, or I would have you up there as well," he said reluctantly.

"It's quite all right, John. I know you care about me as well," I said and waved my hand at him.

"Right,"

"So, when are you going to ask him?" I said and leaned back in my chair.

"A week from now. Would you like to be there?" he asked.

"Why?"

"He might need you," he mumbled. I debated that in my mind for a few seconds before grinning. "He'll probably shut down for a few minutes," I replied.

"Shut down?"

"Go off into his mind palace and debate it with himself. I want to be there, but I feel like it's something between just you boys. I'll stay out of it," I explained. John nodded and picked up his tea to take another sip. "...He'll have to make a speech," I said ruefully.

"He'll be fine," he said and rolled his eyes. I grimaced and shook my head before picking up my tea to finish it. "There'll be people there," I replied. John sighed and finished his tea as well. "Well, I best be off. Mary wants me to help her clean our flat," John said and slowly stood from his chair.

"Oh, right. Well, thank you for coming by," I said and stood as well. He grinned at me and I fussed with my skirt for a minute before turning and escorting him to the door. "I hope you don't have too much trouble with him tomorrow. Phone me if there are problems. Make sure he breathes," I said and opened the door. He chuckled and nodded before kissing my cheek and making his way out into the corridor. "'Bye John," I called and watched him wave before shutting the door.

A few days passed and the boys asked me to join them on a new case. "This one is quite frustrating," John said as he lead the way into 221B. I nodded and glanced around before spotting Sherlock sitting in his chair with a matchbox. John veered off to continue drinking his tea at the table and I walked over to John's chair. I sat down and leaned my elbows on my knees. "What is that?" John asked from the kitchen.

"A French decathlete found completely out of his mind, surrounded by one thousand, eight hundred and twelve matchboxes- all empty except this one," Sherlock explained. He rubbed his top lip some more and I stared at the matchbox. "And what's in that one?" John asked. Sherlock looked at me for a moment before glancing down at the box. "The inexplicable," he replied before slowly pushing the box open. A faint golden glow illuminated his face as he peered inside. A grin of delight stretched across his face, and I grinned at the prospect of an interesting case.

Another few days, and another case. John was standing by the window of 221B, peering out at the street below. I was sprawled out on the floor with my arms crossed above my head and Sherlock was slumped in his chair. We had listened to John describe the potential client pacing on the street for over an hour. "She's going to ring the doorbell," he said. I rolled my eyes. "Oh, no, she's changed her mind," he said. I sighed loudly and rolled over onto my stomach. Sherlock had his head tilted up toward the ceiling and his eyes were closed. "No, she's gonna do it… no, she's leaving… oh, she's coming back," he said.

"She's a client. She's boring. I've seen those symptoms before," Sherlock said with his eyes still closed. John hummed, and I let my eyes fall closed. "Oscillation on the pavement always means there's a love affair," Sherlock explained. I groaned quietly and bent my legs up into the air with my ankles crossed.

The most interesting case we had was the one with a rather large animal. We walked into a building by request of a client and halted in our tracks when we entered the room we were directed to. A large African elephant stood in the middle of the room. My jaw dropped as I stared at it, and It swung it's massive head towards us. I glanced over to see Sherlock staring at it with his mouth slightly open, and the elephant decided to greet us with a loud trumpet. I closed my mouth and felt a grin spread across my face as we stared at the beast.

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I received a call from Molly a day after John asked Sherlock to be his best man. "I'm just worried," Molly was saying.

"About Sherlock? He's fine," I sighed and stuck my phone between my ear and my shoulder as I continued folding laundry.

"He'll have to make a speech. With actual people. Listening," she said.

"Everyone already knows how… peculiar he is," I said.

"I'm still worried," she sighed.

"Molly, I'll be honest with you. I'm terrified for him, but he doesn't need to know that. He's scared enough as it is, but he'll never admit to that. So, if I maintain total confidence in him, I hope that it helps him get through the speech," I said.

"I wish I could have your outlook. I have to go, I've got Helen-Louise to take care of. Greg will be by soon enough," she said.

"Okay, have fun removing brains," I said and hung up. I removed my phone and set it down beside me so I could finish folding the last few articles of clothing. Once I was done with that I called Patrick. "Hello, sister dear," he said in greeting.

"Hey, Pat," I said and stretched out on the sofa on my back. I was lounging around my flat while Annette was at work, and my boredom was getting the better of me. "Is there something you need?" he asked.

"Not entirely, are you busy?" I asked and let my eyes fall closed.

"A bit, yeah. I'm working with Mycroft," he said.

"You seem to do that quite a lot," I sighed.

"He's my employer," he defended.

"Right," I mumbled.

"I really am busy, so I'll talk to you as soon as I can," he said.

"Sure," I said and we said our goodbyes and ended the call. I rolled to my feet and padded around the flat for a few minutes before heading back to the bedroom to fling myself onto the bed. I pulled my phone up in front of my face and texted Sherlock

**Do you have free time? **

He replied seconds later

**I'm speaking with Archie. SH **

**Don't scare him. **

**He seems to enjoy the case photos. SH **

**Sherlock Holmes is good with children, who knew? **

He didn't reply and I groaned into the bed. I was extremely bored and I still had several hours before Annette returned. It was three weeks before the wedding, and everyone was scrambling around with last minute decisions. I watched them swirl around with frantic movements from the side, and it made me sick to watch them. I spent much of my time alone, but I grew bored easily.

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We had all agreed for the decision upon the seating arrangement to be made at the two week point, and that was made it his duty to speak to every guest that John and Mary decided in advance were to attend the wedding. He had told me about Mary's ex-boyfriend, David, and how he didn't want the man to come between John and Mary. "Don't worry about it, Sherlock," I said from John's chair.

"I want John to be happy, and if David…. comes between them he won't be," Sherlock said from his chair. I stretched out to prop my feet on his knees and smirked at him. "Just keep watch on him, then. Don't be creepy though," I said and held up my hands.

"Noted," Sherlock muttered. I nodded and let my head fall back to stare at the ceiling. "I've become incredibly bored these past few days. All of my friends are busy," I sighed. Sherlock hummed and I glanced at him. "Would you like to play Wii?" I said with a small smirk. He deliberated for a minute before nodding eagerly. I grinned and we maneuvered around so his chair was facing the telly and the game was started. I settled on the floor at his feet and we started our first race. I grinned as I easily took the lead and I could hear his angry breathing behind me. "I'm a bit rusty," I said with a smirk. He grunted in response and continued to stare at the telly in concentration. I wrinkled up my eyebrows as he flew past me, and he chuckled.

We were eventually screeching at each other, and I wound up throwing my controller across the floor as he beat me once again. He chuckled with delight and I sighed and crossed my arms with a scowl. "Did you practice?" I grumbled.

"Might have a bit," he replied. I shifted a glare at him over my shoulder and he patted the top of my head. I smacked his hand away and stood so I could lounge in John's chair once more. He grinned across at me, and I heaved a sigh. "Don't pout," he said with a small smile.

"I'm not," I mumbled. He chuckled once more and I turned so my legs hung over the arm of the chair. I leaned my head on the back of the chair and let my arms hang down by my side. I watched Sherlock steeple his fingers before his lips as he disappeared into his mind and smiled slightly.

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I found myself sprawled out on the floor in the sitting room of 221B a few days before the two week mark of the impending wedding. Annette, Molly, John, and Sherlock were all in various places around the flat as well. Sherlock and John were in the kitchen, and Sherlock was currently peering into his microscope while John read one of the various newspapers scattered across the table. Molly and Annette were playing chess in the boys' chairs. I had watched them for a few games until I grew bored with that as well. "I'm quite bored," I mumbled to the floor. I buried my face in my arms and sighed loudly. "Can we play truth-or-dare?" I asked suddenly and lifted my head up to peer at Annette and Molly. They froze and turned their heads toward me. "Please?" I whined and stuck my lower lip out. They sighed simultaneously and looked at eachother for a moment before turning back to me and nodding. I shouted with joy and jumped up from the floor. "John, Sherlock, join us," I said and danced into the kitchen. John sighed and shook his head no, his eyes glued on the paper. "Sherlock," I whined and prodded his shoulder. He closed his eyes for a moment before standing and following me back into the sitting room.

We sat in a circle on the floor and I started. "Annette, truth or dare?" I said and stared at her.

"Truth," she chimed.

"Which of your features make you self-conscious?" I asked with a small lilt to my lips. She scowled at me and sighed. "My teeth," she replied. I frowned at her and shook my head. "They're gorgeous, no reason," I said. "Your turn."

"Molly, truth or dare?" she said. I shifted my gaze to Molly and watched her pick truth. Annette asked her why she was going to marry Tom. Molly replied that she loved him, obviously. I giggled and leaned back on my hands. Sherlock sat directly beside me with his back ramrod straight and his hands clasped in front of him. "Sherlock, truth or dare?" Molly said.

"Why?"

"It's the game. You agreed," I said and pushed on his back. He sucked in a deep breath before responding. "Truth," he said in a clear voice.

"Of all of the people in this room, who do you trust the most?" she asked. I closed my eyes and braced myself for the answer. I hoped it would be me, but I also wanted him to pick John. "I trust…. John and Jamie equally the most," he replied carefully. I grinned and let my eyes open. "You won't choose between them?" Molly asked.

"Never," he replied. "My turn. Jamie, truth or dare."

"Dare," I said with a devilish grin.

"Talk with a fake accent for the rest of the game," he responded. I glared at him and sighed. "Fine," I replied in my best impression of an American accent. Annette giggled and Molly smirked. "Molly, truth or dare?" I said carefully.

"Dare," she replied.

"See how many ice cubes you can fit in your mouth at once and then hold them until they melt," I said with a grin. She sighed and stood to head into the kitchen. We all followed, and I grinned eagerly. She wound up with five, and we headed back to our previous places. John watched us pass with a quirk to his eyebrow before returning to his paper. We had to wait for the ice to melt and I twiddled my thumbs as Molly struggled with the ice. Sherlock sat with his eyes closed and his hands on his knees. I hoped he was at least interested in this childish game. When Molly was finally able to speak, she chose Annette. "Dare," Annette replied. Molly sat and debate for an entire minute, and I could feel Sherlock's impatience. "Pick any make up product and write your name on Jamie's stomach," Molly replied. I sighed and shifted my gaze to Annette. "Lipstick washes off really easy, babe," I said. Annette rolled her eyes at me and grabbed her mascara. "It's all I have," she said to my deathly glare. I sighed and laid on my back after lifting up my shirt. I covered my face with my arms and heard Annette's deep breath. I giggled when she started sweeping the brush across my stomach. It surprisingly wasn't an unpleasant experience. When she was finished, I laid on my back for another couple of minutes so it would dry. "Jamie, truth or dare?" Annette asked.

"Dare," I sighed.

"I dare you to use your worst pickup line on Sherlock," she said. I sighed and covered my face with my hands. "I need a moment to think," I said. Annette chuckled and Sherlock sighed. "Sherlock, I seem to have lost my virginity…. can I have yours?" I said after uncovering my face and locking eyes with him. He frowned at me and I could see a faint redness to his cheeks. I smirked at him and sat up. Gravity pushed my shirt down, and I turned to Sherlock. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth,"

"Not very fun, are you? Fine. What is the weirdest thing you've ever consumed?"

"Tea with a slightly roasted eyeball floating in it," Sherlock answered immediately. I grimaced at him and we unanimously agreed that the night was slipping away. "We better get home," I said and slowly stood from the floor. I reached out and helped Annette up before turning to Sherlock. "Good night, Sherlock," I said with a smirk. I bent forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead before walking over to John. "You should get home to Mary," I said and waggled my fingers at him. He nodded and I kissed his cheek before turning to leave the flat. Annette tucked her hand in the crook of my arm, and we headed out onto the street.

**steelegirl19: Thanks for the review. Keep on reading ;) **


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

We finally reached the two week point, and I was completely bored. We were at Baker Street, as usual, and Mary was creating the seating arrangements. I was perched on Sherlock's chair, my feet in the seat and my back hunched so I could hug my knees. John was in his chair, scrolling through his phone. Mary was at the table and Sherlock was looking at his wall of stuff behind the couch. I honestly had no idea what was on it, and I didn't have the motivation to look. "Need to work on your half of the church, Mary. Looking a bit thin," Sherlock said as he turned to look at her.

"Ah, orphan's lot. Friends- that's all I have. Lot's of friends," she replied with a smile. I buried my face between my knees and resisted the urge to groan. Sherlock, Mary, and John had been working on the wedding for weeks and Annette was gone. Mycroft had sent her to do leg work in Australia. I had whined and complained to the elder Holmes, but he was having none of it. Annette would be gone for almost a year, and it had come out of nowhere. I was royally pissed at Mycroft, and Annette had decided to break it off with me. "I can't do long distance relationships, Jamie. So, this is goodbye. We'll keep in touch though," she had said. It had punched a hole through my chest, and I was completely floored. "Are you going to be all right?" she asked with a concerned look.

"Wha- oh, me? Yeah…. yeah, I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. I hope… you enjoy yourself," I choked out and rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly. My stomach twisted painfully and my eyes burned. She looked at me for a moment before stepping forward and kissing my cheek. "Goodbye," she whispered in my ear before turning to climb into the waiting car. I sucked in a deep breath and rubbed my face. Mycroft was standing a few feet behind me, but he came up beside me when the car started to roll. "Did you know?" I said with a steely voice.

"Did I know what?" he asked and leaned on his umbrella.

"That she would break up with me. After nearly two years. Two years," I said, my anger rising.

"No, I had no idea. I suppose you're angry,"

"You're bloody right I'm angry," I growled out and spun on my heels to stomp off. I was shaken out of the memory when Sherlock and Mary started to speak again. They were talking about the placement of one of John's cousins. "Let's stick her by the bogs," she said. I squinted at them and sighed. "Oh, yes," Sherlock replied and sat down.

"Who else hates me?" Mary asked. Sherlock handed her a sheet of paper with a long list of names on it. "Oh great, thanks," she said and glanced through it. John was listing off potential cases off of the blog, and I wa hardly listening to him. "Table four…" Mary said.

"Done," Sherlock confirmed.

"Table five,"

"Major James Sholto, who he?" Sherlock asked as he looked through the list.

"Oh, John's od commanding officer. I don't think he's coming," Mary replied.

"He'll be there," John piped in.

"Well, he needs to RSVP, then," Mary said.

"He'll be there," John replied firmly. Mary hummed and I rubbed my temples. My head was aching and I was completely bored of wedding planning. I felt like a petulant child that's been told to go play in the corner, and it was exhausting to watch them plan.

John and Mary disappeared to talk to someone named Beth on the phone. Sherlock was rapidly folding napkins, completely enthralled, and I quirked an eyebrow at him. I looked up as John walked into the room. "That just sort of… happened," Sherlock said and gestured to the napkins. John grimaced and walked closer. "Sherlock, Jamie," he said hesitantly as he approached. I quirked an eyebrow at him. "Mates," he continued. "I've…. smelled eighteen different perfumes; I've sampled….. nine different slices of cake which all tasted identical; I like the bridesmaids in purple…"

"Lilac," Sherlock interrupted. John settled down on the couch and Sherlock glanced at him. "... lilac. Um, there are no more decisions left to make. I don't even understand the decisions we have made. I'm faking opinions, and it's exhausting. Jamie is obviously past the point of boredom, and I honestly have all the sympathy in the world for her. So, could you please… pick something," John said and held out his phone.

"Anything," I begged, my interest piqued.

"Pick what?" Sherlock asked and wrinkled his eyebrows a bit.

"A case," I sighed. I was getting excited now. Finally, a break from the endless monotony. Moving out of Anette's flat had taken up a day of my time, and I was settled in Patrick's flat once more. It was only a few blocks from Mycroft's house. "A case, your inbox is bursting. Just get me out of here," John continued.

"You want to go out on a case...now?" Sherlock asked quietly. I was screaming internally, and he glanced at my face before nodding and swiping the phone from John. "Don't you worry about a thing, I'll get you out of this," he said. He scrolled through the list before opening one and reading it. I stood on the seat of the chair and jumped down. My socked feet were silent across the floor as I walked around, gathering my things. I stuffed my feet into my boots and laced them up before grabbing our coats and distributing them as the boys stood to head out. John headed into the kitchen, and I made my way out of the flat and down the stairs. I dug in my coat pocket for my cigarettes as I walked and sighed. "Not enough time," I muttered as I leaned on the wall outside of the building to wait for the boys. They appeared seconds later and we all climbed into a taxi.

"We're here to see Private Stephen Bainbridge," John said as he handed his wallet to the duty officer. I stood on Sherlock's left with my hands shoved in my pockets and my chin up. "He's on duty right now, sir, but I'll certainly let him know when he's free," the officer said and handed the wallet back.

"And when will that be?"

"Another hour," he replied. I sighed quietly and we said our goodbyes to the officer before turning and making our way over to a bench. John and Sherlock sat in the middle and I sat on John's right. I crossed my knees and leaned back to watch the gates. Tourists were smiling and taking pictures with the guards, and I could hear their voices drifting across the street. "Do you think they give them classes?" Sherlock asked.

"Classes?" I replied.

"How to resist the temptation to scratch their behinds," Sherlock continued.

"Afferent neurons in the peripheral nervous system," John replied. Sherlock and I looked over at him. "Bum itch," he said. I smirked and Sherlock hummed. "So, Johnny Boy, why don't we see him anymore?" I asked.

"Who?" he asked and turned to look at me.

"Major James Sholto," I replied and crossed my arms behind my head. John remained silent and I grimaced. "He was decorated wasn't he? A war hero," Sherlock prompted.

"Not to everyone. He lead a team of crows into battle,"

"Crows?" I asked.

"New recruits. It's standard procedure- break the new boys in- but it went wrong. They all died, and he was the only survivor. The press and families gave him hell. He gets more death threats than you, Sherlock," John explained. I frowned and let my arms drop into my lap. "Oh, I wouldn't count on that," Sherlock countered.

"Why have either you suddenly taken an interest in another human being?" John asked.

"I'm bored," I said.

"I'm chatting," Sherlock said simultaneously. John gave him a look and I rolled my eyes at his back. "Won't be trying that again," Sherlock muttered. John was quiet for a few minutes, and I fiddled with the edge of my skirt. It was black with red lace and I wore a white shirt with it. I was wearing black leggings underneath to combat the cold. "You both know it won't alter anything, right? Me and mary getting married? We'll still be doing all this," John said.

"Oh, good," Sherlock said.

"If you were worrying,"

"Wasn't worried," Sherlock said and I elected to remain silent. I knew he wouldn't be joining us as often. It was obvious. "See, the thing about Mary, she had completely turned my life around; changed everything. But, for the record, over the last few years, there are only two people who have done that…. and the other one is," John continued but paused when he noticed Sherlock was gone. "... a complete dickhead." I snorted and he looked at me. "I have no hard feelings about what you just said, in case you were worried. I know I haven't been around as long as he has," I said. He grimaced before nodding.

We wound up in Major Reed's office and John was struggling to explain to the man why we needed to speak to Bainbridge. "We're here for a legitimate enquiry," John said.

"Press? Digging for some bloody Royal story or something?" he asked.

"No, sir, I'm Captain John Watson, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers," John replied.

"Retired. You could be a used car salesman now, for all I know. And what about you?" he said and looked at me.

"I'm his wife, just along for the ride," I said with a grin. John smiled at me and leaned over to kiss my cheek. He squinted at us for a moment. "I know you, don't I?" he said to John.

"Hmm?"

"I've seen you in the papers," he said as he gave John his card back, which he handed to me. I smiled and stuffed it into his wallet. "Hang around with that detective- the one with the silly hat. What the hell does Bainbridge want with a detective?" he continued.

"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say," John replied.

"Not at liberty to say? He's a soldier in my regiment- I'll be damned if he's going to get up to cloak and dagger nonsense like this," he scoffed as the duty sergeant hurried in.

"Sir," he said.

"What's going on?"

"It's Bainbridge, sir. He's dead," he said. Reed's face morphed into horror and he hurried out of the room. John and I leapt up to follow them. We walked into the bathroom and saw Bainbridge lying facedown on a bunch of broken glass and blood. John and I stepped forward to examine the body, but we were stepped. "I'm a doctor, let me examine the body," John said and attempted to step around him.

"Oh, so you're a doctor now, sergeant arrest them," he said. I grunted as my right arm was twisted behind my back by one of the bystanders. Sherlock was bundled into the room, and our gazes locked. "Sir, caught this one snooping around," the man holding Sherlock said. Reed looked at us. "Is that what this is about, distracting me so he could come in and kill him?" Reed accused.

"Don't be…" I started to say, but was cut off by Sherlock struggling free of his captor and stepping forward, only to be recaptured. "Kill him with what? Where's the weapon?" Sherlock said to Reed.

"What?"

"Where's the weapon? Go on, search me," he paused to hold out his arms. "No weapon."

"Bainbridge was on parade. He came off duty five minutes ago. When's this supposed to have happened?" I said.

"You obviously stabbed him before he got in the shower," Reed said to Sherlock.

"No,"

"No?"

"He's soaking wet and there's still shampoo in his hair. He got into the shower and then someone stabbed him," Sherlock said.

"The cubicle was locked from the inside, sir. I had to break it open," the duty sergeant piped in.

"You must have climbed over the top," Reed said.

"Well, then I'd be soaking wet too, wouldn't I?" Sherlock said.

"Major, please. I'm John Watson, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. Three years in Afghanistan, a veteran of Kandahar, Helmand, and Bart's bloody hospital. Let me examine this body," John said loudly. Reed looked down at Bainbridge for a few moments before looking up and nodding sharply. We were released and John took off his jacket as he said thank you. He set his coat on a bench and moved over to crouch beside Bainbridge. I pulled off my coat as well and handed it to my previous captor before rolling up my sleeves and walking up next to John. I watched him work for a few moments. Sherlock came forward and examined the cubicle before moving to examine Bainbridge. I crouched down as well and grinned at Sherlock before checking the pulse on the arm. "John, Sherlock?" I said quietly.

"Yes?" Sherlock said.

"He's got a pulse," I said quietly. John tested his breathing and confirmed. "He's still alive," John said.

"What do we do?" I asked.

"Sherlock, give me your scarf," John said.

"What?" he asked.

"Quickly, now," John said. "Call an ambulance." Sherlock handed the scarf over. "What?" Reed asked.

"Call an ambulance, now," I said loudly. "Do it!" John pressed the scarf to the wound and reached for Sherlock's hand. "Nurse, press here, hard. Jamie, talk to him," John said.

"Nurse," Sherlock sneered as John placed his fingers where he wanted them.

"Yes, I'm making do, keep pressure on that wound," John said. I shuffled around to where Bainbridge's face was and laid a hand on his cheek. "We're right here. Don't be scared. You'll pull through," I said quietly. "Stay with me, Stephen."


	33. Chapter 33

**Hey guys! So, we're coming to the end of my very first fic. I'm going to post the last chapters and call this complete. Waiting on Season 4, and then I'll definitely be adding more. Probably in a sequel. Thanks for reading and reviewing! **

Chapter 33

"Murder scenes?" I scoffed. Sherlock and I were visiting Molly at Bart's, and Sherlock was attempting to plan stag night. "Locations… of murders?" Molly asked.

"Mmmmm, pub crawl- themed," Sherlock said. I lifted myself up onto the counter beside him and leaned back on my hands. "Why can't you do Underground stations?" Molly asked.

"Lacks the personal touch. We're going to go for a drink on every street where we…" Sherlock started after a wrinkled nose.

"..where you found a corpse. Delightful. Where do I come in?" Molly finished.

"Don't want to get ill. That would ruin it- spoil the mood," Sherlock said. I rolled my eyes behind his back at Molly and she giggled. "You're a graduate chemist. Can't you just work it out?" I asked.

"I lack the personal experience," Sherlock said. I scoffed and Molly stared at him. "Meaning you think I like a drink," she said in a dangerous voice.

"Occasionally," Sherlock said.

"That I'm a drunk,"

"No. No!" Sherlock said. I snorted with laughter at his struggling. Molly smiled at me when he wasn't looking, and I smirked back. Sherlock looked at the floor awkwardly before looking up once more. "You look… well," he said.

"I am," she said with a small smile.

"How's… Tom?" he said.

"Not a sociopath,"

"Still? Good," he said.

"And we're having quite a lot of sex," she said with a smile. I giggled as Sherlock shut down for a moment as his brain scrambled. "Okay," he said carefully. I continued to laugh as he reached into his coat and pulled out a folder full of paper. "I want you to calculate John's ideal intake, and mine, to remain in the sweet spot all evening," Sherlock said. Molly leafed through the folder. "Light headed, good," Sherlock said.

"Urinating in wardrobes, bad," she concluded. Sherlock hummed and I smiled. He handed her a picture of the vitruvian man with John's face glued to it. Molly nodded and turned to head into her office and I looked up at Sherlock. "Come along, consultant detective," I said and jumped down. I pulled on my coat and grabbed his hand to lead the way out of the lab.

We wound up back at Baker Street. I walked into the sitting room and smiled at Mrs. Hudson. "Hello, dears," she said as she puttered around the room.

"Hello," I said. I still had Sherlock's hand grasped in mine, and I dragged him to his bedroom. He quirked an eyebrow at me as I crawled across the bed and settled into the spot I previously laid claim to. He stretched out beside me and we stared at the ceiling in silence. "I miss living here," I said quietly.

"Why?"

"You already know, genius," I mumbled. He chuckled and I sighed contentedly. "I'm scared, Sherlock," I said carefully. He remained silent, but I could feel his gaze on me. "Marriage changes people. It's terrifying. John won't just be our John anymore. He'll have Mary. She's fantastic, and I care massively for her, but we won't ever go back to the way it was. Just the three of us. You solving the murders, John saving the lives, and me…" I elaborated in a small voice.

"You…" he prompted.

"I chase after you two and make sure you don't piss off everyone in London," I said with a chuckle. I rolled to face him and he met my gaze. "But, I'm happy for John. I truly am," I said. Sherlock dipped his chin in a nod and shifted his gaze back up to the ceiling. "You're quiet," I said as I rolled back onto my back.

"Mind palace," he said. I smiled and reached out to grab his fingers. He didn't hesitate to twist our fingers together and they rested between us. I sighed quietly as Sherlock fell into silence, and I let my eyes fall closed. I wound up falling asleep as rain started to patter on the roof.

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"Can you come pick up your boys? I've managed to square everything away with the desk sergeant, but I feel like you want to be here," Greg said.

"Of course, I'm on my way, Greg," I said. I giggled as I stuffed my feet into my boots and grabbed my car keys. I had finally managed to convince Mycroft to let me have one of his numerous cars, and in return, I had to help him around his house. It was a terribly easy job, and I had a car in return. I drove to Scotland Yard and climbed out. I stuffed my hands in my coat as I entered the building and grinned when I saw Greg. "They're still asleep," he said. I giggled and followed him.

"Wait here, I'll get them," he said and gestured to the desk. I crossed my arms and leaned on it as Greg disappeared to retrieve John and Sherlock. They had gone on their stag night, and Lestrade had called me to tell me he had them at Scotland Yard early this morning. They appeared around the corner and I grinned widely. "Hello, boys," I said loudly. John groaned and glared at me, and Sherlock shuffled along with his hands on his temples. "Can you whisper?" he said.

"Not at all," I said loudly. He groaned and walked up to the desk to retrieve his items. Sherlock grunted as he pulled his coat on and John tucked his wallet in his pocket. "Well… thanks for a… you know," John said quietly. They finished and I stepped between them as we turned to leave. "An evening," he finished.

"It was awful," Sherlock said. I snorted and stuffed my hands into my pockets. "Yeah," John said. Sherlock groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose and I giggled. "I was gonna pretend, but it was, truly," John said. We continued to walk for a few moments. "That woman, Tessa," Sherlock said. I quirked an eyebrow. "What?" John asked.

"Dated a ghost. The most interesting case for months. What a wasted opportunity," Sherlock said. John hummed and I chuckled. I lead them over to my car and Sherlock climbed in the front passenger seat. "No puking on my seats," I said as I climbed in and switched it on. The ride was pleasantly silent, and when we arrived at Baker Street, John headed into 221A to see Mrs. Hudson while I dragged Sherlock upstairs. I tucked him into bed and left the room to curl up on the couch. It was still early in the morning, and I was praying to get a few more hours of sleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I woke up to the sound of John and Sherlock discussing something. I laid on my back and rubbed my eyes with both hands for a few moments as I tried to focus. They were at the dining room table, and Sherlock had his laptop set up while John peered at a map. I rolled to my feet and shuffled tiredly towards them. "There are going to be others," Sherlock said.

"Others?" John asked.

"Victims, women. Most ghosts tend to haunt a single house- this ghost, however, is willing to commute," Sherlock said. I shuffled into the kitchen, completely ignoring their banter on the Mayfly Man as I headed to make something to eat. I listened to Sherlock set up various laptops on the coffee table, and John went to sit in his arm chair. Sherlock became enthralled in his current task, so I made myself a sandwich and went to curl up in his chair. John was reading one of the various newspapers strewn about, but he smiled up at me when I sat down.

Sherlock typed rapidly on his laptop for several hours, and I wound up heading downstairs to help Mrs. hudson make dinner. We brought it upstairs to the boys, and John ate enthusiastically while Sherlock ignored his. I sighed and went to shower after stealing some of Sherlock's clothes. I had already told Patrick I would be sleeping here tonight. I shut the door to the bathroom and turned on the shower. I closed my eyes and hummed mindlessly as I stripped off my clothes. I avoided looking at my reflection in the mirror as I waited for the water to warm up sufficiently. I didn't want to see my awful scars. I had avoided them for a long time, but I knew I still had some internal issues from ordeal with Ethan. I sighed and stepped under the warm spray and let it soak my skin. I borrowed Sherlock's soap and shampoo and scrubbed myself clean.

When I was finished, I stepped out and dried off. I then pulled on one of Sherlock's shirts and my panites. I let my hair air dry and stepped out of the bathroom. Sherlock was still in the sitting room, but John had left. I walked over towards Sherlock and tapped his back. "What is it?" he said.

"It's getting late," I said quietly.

"I'm on a case," he replied stiffly. I frowned and tugged on the end of the sleeves of the shirt I was wearing. He hesitated for a moment before returning to his six laptops, and I sighed quietly. I shifted from foot to foot and watched him work. "Please, come sleep," I said quietly. He paused and turned his head to look at me. I continued to shift and he closed his eyes for a moment before nodding and turning to shut all of the laptops. He grabbed my hand and we walked back into his bedroom. I crawled onto the bed and settled on my side, buried under the covers. Sherlock changed behind my back and then crawled in as well. I scooted back until I was pressed against him and he sighed. "Are you going to make this arrangement permanent?" he asked.

"Probably not," I replied with my eyes closed. He sighed once more and rolled onto his side so he could wrap an arm around my waist. I twined our fingers together and smiled. "Do you enjoy living with….Patrick?" he asked quietly.

"He's never there….. so it's like I live on my own," I mumbled sleepily. He was quiet for a few minutes before sighing again. I opened my eyes and stared out across the room. It was dark, and the moonlight through the gap in the curtain was the only illumination. "I can't sleep," I whined.

"Nor can I," he said. I rolled so I was facing him and grimaced. His black curls were strewn about the pillow and he had dark bruises under his eyes from lack of sleep. "You look exhausted," I said quietly as I reached up to trace the bruises with my fingertips.

"The Mayfly Man case is consuming me," he mumbled with his eyes closed.

"Well, place all those thoughts in a room in your mind palace so you can sleep without them distracting you. Pull them back out tomorrow morning," I suggested in a small voice. He opened his eyes and frowned at me. "I could accidentally delete something," he scoffed. I rolled my eyes at him and tilted my chin so I could kiss the end of his nose. "That's the first time you've kissed me since I came back," he mumbled. I remained silent, and stared up at him with a small frown. I relaxed my face after a moment and let my eyelids drift closed. Sherlock buried his face in my neck and curled his arms around my waist. I tangled my fingers in his hair, and sleep finally pulled me into it's warm embrace.


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

Today was the big day. John and Mary were going to be married. I was pacing around my flat while Patrick put on his suit. I had yet to get dressed, but I did have my hair finished. It was up in a braid that I curled back into a bun and secured with pins. I had my bangs loose on my forehead, and I blew them out of my eyes as I turned to pace the other direction. "Jamie, please stop worrying a track in the carpet and get dressed," Patrick said from the doorway to his bedroom. I looked over at him and smiled. "You look handsome," I said. He grinned back and motioned to my room. "Put your clothes on," he ordered. I sighed and turned to make my way in that direction.

I carefully pulled on my emerald green dress. It was high in the front and low in the back, with the front barely brushing the tops of my knees. My shoulders were covered in lace to hide my scars, and I had on minimal make up. I pulled on my tan sandals and turned to look in the mirror. I placed my hands on my hips and turned left and right, admiring the way my dress moved. "You look gorgeous, Jamie," Patrick said as he stepped into my room. I turned to grin at him, and took his outstretched elbow. "If you get uncomfortable, you can have my jacket. Don't hesitate to ask," he said as he lead the way out of the flat.

"Of course. Thank you. Do you have my phone?" I said and smiled up at him. He nodded and handed it to me. I glanced at the time before handing it back. We climbed into my car, and Patrick drove. I twiddled my thumbs as we navigated towards John and Mary's chosen church. I chewed my lip as nerves twisted in my stomach. "Jamie, relax. Nothing is going to happen. Sherlock and John will be there. Mary is amazing, and we all love her. And if you get too antsy, I can get you out. We'll blame Mycroft," he said with a mischievous grin thrown in my direction. I quirked an eyebrow at him. "He won't mind. He loves you," he said with a dismissive shrug. I snorted and shifted my gaze out of the window.

We stood outside of the church for several minutes with the crowd of guests. I chewed my lip and kept a tight hold on Patrick's hand as my eyes scanned the crowd. I easily spotted everyone who was familiar to me, and I smiled when Molly dragged Tom over. "Hello, Molly," I said, my voice shaking a bit.

"Jamie, you look gorgeous," she replied and moved in for a hug. I hugged her gently and then shook hands with Tom. I immediately grabbed Patrick's fingers again and pulled him close to my side. "That dress is very flattering Molly. You look absolutely amazing in it," I said with a grin. She grinned back and glanced up at Tom. I was tapped on the right shoulder a few seconds later and spun to face the individual. I tensed up before realizing who it was. "Greg!" I said with a grin and shook his hand. He smiled back and his eyes roamed over me briefly before meeting my gaze once more. "You look beautiful, Jamie," he said kindly. I rolled my eyes at him and smiled. Patrick shook hands with Greg and released me so he could speak with Tom. "Have you seen them?" I asked Molly and Greg.

"I saw Sherlock go in a while ago, but I haven't seen John or Mary," Greg replied. I nodded and locked eyes with Molly briefly. We exchanged smiles and looked when the crowd began moving inside. Patrick reappeared at my side and held out his elbow for me. I took it gratefully and we followed Greg, Molly, and Tom inside.

The ceremony was beautiful and very traditional, which is exactly what John and Mary wanted. We all made our way outside and the photographer took pictures. I was dragged into a photo with Sherlock and Greg, and at the last second someone shoved a tophat on my head. I giggled and Sherlock glanced down at me with a wide grin. John and Mary came up to us and I kissed Mary's cheek. "Congratulations," I said with a small smile. Sherlock stood on my right with his arms behind his back, and he gave me a small grin when I looked up at him. Janine reappeared and I resisted the urge to scowl as she whisked Sherlock away to get their picture taken. Patrick appeared at my side and leaned down to whisper in my ear, "You look absolutely terrified. Calm down." I scowled at him and watched John and Mary make their way over to the entrance to the tent for the reception. The guests began to line up, and Patrick dragged me over to stand in line. The tophat had disappeared in the chaos, and I hoped it made it back to it's owner.

Patrick and I were in line behind Archie and his mother, and I couldn't help the grin that spread on my face when he ran up to hug Sherlock. "He's really come out of his shell. I don't know how you did it," I heard Archie's mother exclaim. Sherlock looked rather uncomfortable, and I giggled. "He said you had some pictures for him, as a treat," she continued.

"...yes, if he's good," Sherlock replied and patted the boy's head.

"Beheadings," Archie said to his mom happily.

"Lovely little village," Sherlock covered quickly. The mother whisked Archie inside and Patrick dragged me forward. "I'm so happy for you both," Patrick said easily. He kissed Mary's cheek and shook John's hand. I swallowed thickly before saying, "I'm really glad you found each other and are happy." I hugged Mary gently and then John. I locked eyes with Sherlock and frowned a bit as Patrick pulled me inside.

I sat beside Patrick at a table with Molly, Tom, and Greg. The photographer was making his rounds and he snapped a few photos of our table. I tried not to glare at him and shifted my gaze around the room as he disappeared. I sighed and stood, and Patrick made a move to follow. "No, stay. I'm fine," I said and held a hand out to him. He grimaced and me and I rolled my eyes before making my way across the crowded room to Sherlock. He was standing with Janine, and they were scanning the crowd. "Sherlock, I need to speak with you, please," I said hesitantly. Janine shifted a glare at me before moving off. I grabbed Sherlock's hand and dragged him over to where Mary was standing. John had gone off to greet a man who had just entered. "So that's him. Major Sholto," Sherlock said as we stepped up to Mary's side.

"Uh-huh," Mary replied.

"If they're such good friends, why does he barely even mention him?" Sherlock asked.

"He mentions him all the time to me. He never shuts up about him," Mary replied.

"About him?" I scoffed. Mary hummed and drank from her wine glass. "Ugh, I chose this wine. It's bloody awful," she said with a grimace. I snorted at her. "Yes, but it's definitely him that he talks about?" Sherlock said. Mary hummed again and I wrapped my arms around my middle as we watch John speak with Major Sholto. "I've never even heard him say his name," I said.

"Well, he's almost a recluse now- you know," Mary said.

"Yes," Sherlock replied.

"I didn't think he'd show up at all. John says he's the most unsociable man he's ever met," Mary finished.

"He is? Hes the most unsociable?" Sherlock scoffed. Mary hummed and I frowned. "So that's why he's bouncing around him like a puppy," I said and my gaze narrowed. Mary grinned and hugged both of our arms. "Oh, Jamie, Sherlock. None of us were the first, you know," she said happily. I rolled my eyes and Sherlock looked down at her. "Stop smiling," he ordered.

"It's my wedding day!" she said happily. Sherlock rolled his eyes and Mary released us. "Jamie, you needed to speak to me," Sherlock prompted.

"Right," I said. He held out his arm to me, and we walked away from Mary. "What did you need, Jamie?" Sherlock asked as we stopped off to the side of the room.

"Did you finish your speech?" I asked.

"Of course," he scoffed. I nodded and twined our fingers together. "You're shaking," he pointed out.

"I'm just nervous. A lot of unfamiliar people here," I replied and rubbed the back of my neck with my free hand.

"I should call Mycroft," he said and reached into his pocket. He dialed and I stood close enough so I could hear what was being said. "Yes, what is it, SHerlock?" Mycroft answered in a breathy voice.

"Why are you out of breath?" Sherlock asked.

"Filing,"

"Either I've caught you in a compromising position or you've been working out again. I favor the latter,"

"What do you want?"

"I need your answer, Mycroft, as a matter of emergency,"

"'Answer'?"

"Even at the eleventh hour it's not too late, you know," Sherlock said. I giggled and Mycroft sighed. "Oh Lord," he said.

"Cars can be ordered, private jets can be commandeered," I piped in.

"Of course you're there, too," he sighed. "No, Sherlock, Jamie, I will not be coming to the 'night do' as you so poetically put it."

"Please, Mycroft," I sighed.

"Mary and John would be delighted not to have me around," Mycroft said.

"Oh I don't know. There should always be a spectre at a feast," Sherlock said.

"I supposed I'll being seeing a lot more of you both from now on," Mycroft said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Just like old times,"

"I don't understand," Sherlock said.

"John and Mary- domestic bliss. It's the end of an era,"

"I think of it as a new chapter," I replied. Mycroft was silent and Sherlock and I glanced at each other. "What is it?" I asked.

"Nothing," Mycroft replied.

"I know that silence, what?" Sherlock said.

"Well, I better let you both get back to it. You have a big speech, Sherlock," Mycroft said vaguely.

"Mycroft," I said angrily.

"Cake, karaoke… mingling," Mycroft continued.

"Mycroft Holmes," I said.

"This is what people do, Sherlock, Jamie. I warned you: don't get involved,"

"I'm not involved!" Sherlock scoffed.

"Neither am I," I grumbled.

"No," Mycroft said, his voice filled with disbelief.

"John asked me to be his best man. How could I say no?" Sherlock said.

"Absolutely," Mycroft said insincerely.

"I'm not involved," Sherlock insisted.

"I believe you! Really, I do. Have a lovely day, you two. Do give the happy couple my best," he said.

"I will," I sighed. Sherlock lowered the phone, about to hang up, but Mycroft called out again. "Oh, by the way, Sherlock- do you remember Redbeard?" he said.

"I'm not a child anymore, Mycroft," Sherlock replied.

"No of course you're not. Enjoy not getting involved, Sherlock," he replied. I rolled my eyes and Sherlock hung up. "I don't know how you survived your childhood," I sighed. He chuckled and shook his head at me. "You should head up there. Good luck on your speech," I said and gestured to the top table. He nodded and turned to leave before hesitating. He turned back and pressed a kiss to my cheek before turning and walking away. I made my way back over to my seat just as the Master of Ceremonies announced Sherlock for his speech. THe beginning was rough as Sherlock attempted to greet the crowd, and my stomach sank. John saved him by mentioning the telegrams, and I grinned at him. Sherlock patted his pockets before spotting the telegrams in front of him. He lifted them and I smirked. "First things first. Telegrams," Sherlock said. "Well, they're not actually telegrams. We just call them telegrams. I don't know why. Wedding tradition." He looked at the first card. "...because we don't have enough of that already," he finished sarcastically. I frowned as Sherlock began to read.

"'To Mr. and Mrs. Watson, so sorry I'm unable to be with you on your special day. Good luck and Best wishes, Mike Stamford,'" was the first card.

"'To John and Mary, All good wishes for your special day. With love and many big…. squishy cuddles on your special day, from Stella and Ted,'" was the next. I grinned as he began the next card. "Mary- lots of love…." he stopped to breathe out a silent 'oh'. John and Mary looked up at him. "Poppet…" he continued like the word was sour on his tongue. I giggled alongside John and Mary. "Ooodles of love and heaps of good wishes from Cam," he continued. "Wish your family could have seen this." Mary frowned and John wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Sherlock rifled through the last of cards quickly, dropping them all onto the table as he repeated 'love' over and over. "...bit of a theme. You get the gist. Basically, people are…. fond," he continued. Some laughter sound from the crowd, and I smiled. "John….. My friend, John Watson….. John," he said and gestured to him.

I frowned at his fumbling and crossed my ankles under the table. "When John first broached the subject of being best man, I was confused. I confess at first I didn't realize what he was asking me. When I finally understood, I expressed to him that I was both flattered…. and surprised. I explained to him that I had never expected this request and I was a little daunted in the face of it. I nonetheless promised that I would do my very best to accomplish the task which was- for me- as demanding and difficult as any I had ever contemplated. Additionally, I thanked him for the trust he place in me and indicated that I was, in some ways, very close to being….moved by it," he hesitated and I shifted my gaze briefly to John to see his confused expression. "It later transpired that I had said none of this outloud," he finished and the crowd laughed. I grinned widely and rolled my eyes a bit.

He pulled out a stack of cue cards and shuffled through them before stopping on a certain card and turning to look at John and Mary. "I'm afraid, John, I can't congratulate you. All emotions, and in particular love, stand opposed to the pure, cold reason i hold above all things. A wedding is, in my considered opinion, nothing short of a celebration of all that is false and specious and irrational and sentimental in this ailing and morally compromised world. Today we honor the death-watch beetle that is the doom of our society, and, in time- one feels certain- our entire species. But anyway… let's talk about John," he began. The crowd was murmuring uncomfortably and I was praying he had something good in there. He looked back up from his cards and spoke once more. "If I burden myself with a little help-mate during my adventures, it is not out of sentiment of caprice- it is that he has many fine qualities that he has overlooked in his obsession with me. Indeed, any reputation I have for mental acuity and sharpness comes, in truth, from the extraordinary contrast John so selflessly provides. It is a fact, I believe, that brides tend to favor exceptionally plain bridesmaids for their big day. There is a certain analogy there, I feel. And contrast is, after all, God's own plan to enhance the beauty of his creation… or it would be if God were not a ludacris fantasy designed to provide a career opportunity for the family idiot," Sherlock said and then paused. Mary face-palmed and John was attempting to hide behind his clasped hands. The vicar looked grimly at Sherlock, and the crowd was continuing to mutter. I swallowed uncomfortably and waited for Sherlock to continue.

"The point I'm trying to make is that I am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant and all-round obnoxious arsehole that anyone could have the misfortune to meet. I am dismissive of the virtuous…. unaware of the beautiful…. and uncomprehending in the face of the happy. So if I didn't understand I was being asked to be best man, it is because I never expected to be anybody's best friend." Sherlock said. "Certainly not the best friend of the bravest and kindest and wisest human being I have ever had the good fortune of knowing. John, I am a ridiculous man redeemed only by the warmth and constancy of your friendship. But, as I am apparently your best friend, I cannot congratulate you on your choice of companion." He looked down at the table for a moment before looking back up with a small smile. "Actually, now I can. Mary, when I say you deserve this man, it is the highest compliment of which I am capable. John, you have endure war, and injury, and tragic loss…" he paused to lean closer to John. "... so sorry again about the last one…" He straightened again. "... so no this: today you sit between the woman you have made your wife and the man you have saved- in short, two of the three people who love you most in all the world. And I know I speak for Mary and Jamie as well when I say we will never let you down, and we have a lifetime ahead to prove that," Sherlock said. I felt a tear drip down my cheek as John met my eyes across the room before turning to whisper to Mary. I hastily wiped my tears away and Patrick rubbed my shoulder. "Ah, yes. Now on to some funny things about John…" he said. He looked up from his cards and saw so many people crying. "What's wrong? What's happening? Why are you all doing that? John?" he said quickly. He looked around the room and met my eyes. I sniffed and he had a bewildered look on his face before turning to John. "Did I do it wrong?" he asked.

"No, you didn't. Come here," John said and stood. John pulled him into a tight hug and Sherlock looked completely confused. "I haven't finished yet," he said.

"Yeah, I know, I know." John replied. He released his best friend and the crowd continued to applaud. Sherlock began to recount a few of our cases off of John's blog and I turned to look at Patrick. He grinned at me and I gave him a hesitant smile before turning back to Sherlock. He began to explain the case of the Bloody Guardsman, and I leaned back in my seat. "Private Bainbridge had just come off guard duty. He'd stood there for hours, plenty of people watching, nothing apparently wrong. He came off duty and within minutes was nearly dead from a wound in his stomach, but there was no weapon. Where did it go? Ladies and gentlemen, I invite you to consider this: a murder that can walk through walls, a weapon that can vanish- but in all of this there is only one element which can be said to be truly remarkable. Would anyone like to make a guess?" Sherlock said. The guests fidgeted and Sherlock gazed around. "Come on, come on. There's actually an element of Q and A to this," he said impatiently. He cleared his throat and we all remained silent. "Scotland Yard," he called out. Greg lifted his head. "Have you got a theory?" Sherlock asked. Greg looked perplexed before fumbling through his theory of a dwarf.

Tom was next. He stood and explained an idiotic theory on a meat dagger. Molly ordered him to sit down with a thoroughly embarrassed look on her face. "There was one feature, and only one feature, of interest in this whole baffling case, and quite frankly it was the usual. Where I attempted to solve the murder, John and Jamie saved the life. There are mysteries worth solving and stories worth telling," he said and looked down at John. "The best and bravest man I know- and on top of that he actually knows how to do stuff…. except wedding planning and serviettes. He's rubbish at those…. The case itself remains the most ingenious and brilliantly planned murder- or attempted murder- I've ever had the pleasure to encounter; the most perfect locked- room mystery of which I am aware. However, I'm not just here to praise John- I'm here to embarrass him so lets move on to some…." he said.

"No-no, wait. So how was it done?" Greg cut him off.

"How was what done?" Sherlock said pensively.

"The stabbing,"

"I'm afraid I don't know. I didn't solve that one. That's… it can happen sometimes. It's very… very disappointing." he said after looking at the table for a long moment. He took a deep breath and looked at the guests once more. "Embarrassment leads me on to the stag night. Of course there's hours of material here, but I've cut it down to the really good bits," Sherlock said. He explained everything he had told me, including the drunken case with Tessa. I had laughed so hard at that I had tears streaming down my cheeks. He had paused his personal recount to glare at me, and I attempted to control my giggles, to no avail.

"On second thoughts, I probably should have told you about the Elephant in the Room. However, it does help to illustrate how invaluable John and Jamie are to me. I can read a crime scene the way they can understand a human being. I used to think that's what made me special- quite frankly, I still do. But a word the wise: should any of you require the services of any of us, I will solve your murder, but It takes a John Watson or a Jamie McConnell to save your life. Trust me on that, I should know. They've save mine so many times, and in so many ways," he said. John and I grinned at each other and Sherlock held up his phone. "This blog is the story of two men and one woman and their frankly ridiculous adventures of murder, mystery, and mayhem. But from now one, there's a new story- a bigger adventure. Ladies and gentleman, pray charge your glasses and be upstanding," he continued and lifted his glass. All of the guests followed likewise, and the photographer made his way forward with his camera. "Today begin the adventures of John Hamish Watson and Mary Elizabeth Watson," Sherlock said. "The two reasons why every single one of us is…" He froze, and I watched his eyes go unfocused as he whirled into his mind palace. Patrick wrapped a hand around my wrist as I started to walk up to Sherlock. Sherlock's fingers loosened and his champagne flute tumbled toward the floor.

"..here today," Sherlock said as the glass shattered on the floor. He glanced down at it and I frowned. "Oh, sorry, I…" he began. The Master of Ceremonies hurried over with another glass and offered it. Sherlock accepted and he shifted his gaze back to the crowd. "Now, where were we?" he asked. "Ah, yes, raising glasses and standing up. Very good. Thank you." He ordered us to sit down again, and I quirked an eyebrow at him as I followed directions. He jumped over the table and began walking around. "And now for part two," he said. I locked eyes with John as Sherlock began pacing around and rambling. "Something's wrong," I mouthed to him. He grimaced and nodded before turning to Mary to relay the message. He paused by a man and began speaking to Janine, and I could see him typing on his phone behind his back. "Geoff the gents," he said. He stared pointedly at Greg. "The loos, now, please," he said.

"It's Greg," he scoffed as his phone beeped a text. He asked why as he pulled it out and read it. "Oh I don't know, maybe it's your turn," Sherlock said.

"Yeah, actually, now that you mention it…" he said and rose to head out of the large area.

"Sherlock, any chance of a- an end date for this speech? Gotta cut the cake," John said from the top table. Sherlock smiled widely and danced down the aisle back toward the top table. "Oh! Ladies and Gentleman, can't stand it when I finally get the chance to speak for once. Vatican Cameos," he said. I sucked in a deep breath and clenched my fists. John whispered to Mary and our gazes locked once more. I nodded to him and shifted my gaze back to Sherlock. Sherlock turned back the crowd and he seemed to be arguing with his mind. I grimaced as he shouted and slapped both of his cheeks. HE began pointing at men in the crowd and shouting "Not you!"

He seemed to calm down after a moment and pointed at John. "It's always you, John Watson, you keep me right," he said.

"What do I do?" John asked calmly.

"Well, you've already done it. Don't solve the murder, save the life," he said.


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

Sherlock continued on with his speech, and I grimaced as he began talking about murdering his friends and colleagues. "Now, John, I'd poison. Sloppy eater- dead easy. I've given him chemicals and compounds that way- he's never even noticed. He's missed a whole Wednesday once, didn't have a clue. Jamie would have to be killed in her sleep. She sleeps like a sack of rocks, and doesn't wake up for any noise. Lestrade's so easy to kill, it's a miracle no one has succumbed to the temptation. I've got a pair of key's to my brother's house- I could easily break in there and asphyxiate him," he said and motioned with his hands the act of strangling someone. I grimaced and Sherlock seemed to realize he'd gone too far. "... if the whim arose," he finished and let his hands drop. He turned back to face the crowd once more. "So, once again, who could you only kill here? Clearly it's a rare opportunity, so it's someone who doesn't get out much," he said and twirled his fingers. I could see the gears turning in his head as he attempted to narrow down the target. "Someone for whom a planned social encounter known about months in advance is an exception. Has to be a unique opportunity. And since killing someone in public is difficult…." he paced as he spoke and paused to face the crowd once more. "...killing them in private isn't an option. Someone who lives in an inaccessible or unknown location, then. Someone private, perhaps, obsessed with personal security. Possibly someone under threat," he said and locked his eyes on someone in the crowd. I followed his gaze and saw him staring intently at Major James Sholto.

"Ooh! A recluse, small household staff," he said and stalked closer. He wrote something on a card as he walked. "High turnover for additional security work," he continued. HE dropped the card in front of Sholto. "Probably all signed confidentiality agreements," he said nonchalantly. "There is another question that remains, however- a big one, a huge one; how would you do it? How would you kill someone in public?" he said. "There has to be a way. This has been planned."

"MR. Holmes! Mr. Homes!" Archie called out and bounced in his seat. Sherlock froze and turned to face the excited boy. "Oh, hello again, Archie," he said and bent to come eye to eye with the boy. "What's your theory?"

"The invisible man could do it," he said.

"The who, the what, the why the when, the where?" Sherlock said rapidly.

"The invisible man with the invisible knife. The one who tried to kill the guardsman," Archie said proudly. Sherlock gasped and straightened with his eyes wide. Sherlock closed his eyes and turned his head as Major Sholto stood and grabbed his sword from its place by the window. He made his way towards the door, and I tracked him with my eyes. "Oh, not just planned. Planned and rehearsed," Sherlock said softly. He whirled around and made his way back to the top table, swiping someone's glass as he went. "Ladies and gentleman, there will now be a short interlude," he said and raised the glass. "The bride and groom!" We all stood and repeated the gesture, and I watched Sherlock spin to speak to John. I made my way around the table, shrugging off Patrick's hand. Sherlock turned to make his way through the crowd, and I latched onto his hand as he passed me.

We made our way to the staircase and Sherlock stood with his fingers on his temple and his face screwed up. "How could you not remember which room? YOu remember everything," I sighed.

"I have to delete some things!" he said irritably. Mary ran around the corner and up the stairs, calling out 'two oh seven' as she went. I grabbed Sherlock and John's hands and dragged them after her. We reached the second floor and made our way over to the room as fast as we could. Sherlock tried the door handle. "Major Sholto!" he called. HE slammed his hand against the door,, calling the man two more times.

"If someone is about to make an attempt on my life, it's not the first time. I'm ready," Sholto called from inside. Sherlock stepped back as John approached the door. I grabbed Sherlock's hand and inspected it before grimacing at him and letting it go. "Major, let us in," John said.

"Kick the door down," Mary suggested.

"I really wouldn't I have a gun in my hand and a lifetime of unfortunate reflexes," Sholto replied.

"YOu're not safe in there. Whoever's after you, we know a locked door won't stop him," I said and stepped up to the door.

"'The invisible man with the invisible knife'," Sholto replied.

"I don't know how he does it, so I can't stop him, and that means he'll do it again," Sherlock said, stepping up beside me.

"Solve it, then," Sholto said sternly.

"I-I'm sorry?" Sherlock said.

"YOu're the famous Mr. Holmes, solve the case. On you go," SHolto said. Sherlock straightened and his eyes flickered rapidly around the room. "Tell me how he did it and I'll open the door," Sholto said. John stepped forward again, and I moved out of his way. I grabbed Sherlock and dragged him with me. I pulled him across the lading and grabbed his cheeks. "Solve it, and he'll open the door. Just like he said," I said as he stared at me with wide eyes. Mary stepped up beside us and I glanced at her. I tuned out John's pleading with Major Sholto, and focused on Sherlock. "I couldn't solve it before, how can I solve it now?" Sherlock scoffed.

"Because it matters now," Mary replied. He grimaced at me and glanced over at Mary. Mary was staring at him intently. "What are you talking about? Control your wife," he said to John.

"She's right," he replied.

"Oh, you've changed!" he said accusingly.

"No, she is. Shut up. You are not a puzzle solver- you never have been. You're a drama queen," John said while pointing at Sherlock. Sherlock broke out of my grasp to turn and stare at his best friend with a shocked expression. "There is a man in there about to die. 'The game is on!' Solve it!" John said and pointed sternly at the door. Sherlock bared his teeth at him and then his eyes snapped upwards as he thought. His eyes sunk closed, and I let out the breath I had been holding.

His eyes opened several moments later and he stepped up to kiss my cheek and then Mary's forehead. He turned to point at John. "Though, in fairness, he's a drama queen, too," he said.

"Yeah, I know," she replied. John frowned as Sherlock released Mary and stepped over to the door. "Major Sholto, no one's coming to kill you. I'm afraid you've already been kille hours ago," Sherlock said.

"What did you say?" Sholto's voice sounded from the inside.

"Don't take off your belt," Sherlock replied.

"My belt?" Sholto asked. Sherlock turned to look at us. "His belt, yes. Bainbridge was stabbed hours before we even saw him, but it was through his belt. Tight belt, worn high on the waist. Very easy to push a small blade through the fabric and you wouldn't even feel it," Sherlock said.

"The-the belt would bind the flesh together when it was tied tight.." John began, nodding in understanding.

"Exactly," Sherlock encouraged.

"...And when you took it off…" John trailed off.

"Delayed action stabbing. All the time in the world to create an alibi," Sherlock said and then turned to try the door handle. "Major Sholto?"

"So- I was to be killed by my uniform, how appropriate," Sholto said.

"He's solved the case, Major. You're supposed to open the door now, a deal's a deal," I said.

"I'm not even supposed to have this anymore. They gave me special dispensation to keep it. I couldn't imagine a life out of this uniform. I suppose- given the circumstances- I don't have to," Sholto continued. "When so many want you dead, It hardly seems good manners to argue."

"Whatever you're doing in there, James, stop it now. I will kick this door down," John called.

"Mr. Holmes, you and I are similar, I think," Sholto said, ignoring John's pleading. John turned away from the door and Sherlock stepped closer. "Yes, I think we are," Sherlock said.

"There's a proper time to die, isn't there?" he asked.

"Of course there is," Sherlock said.

"And one should embrace it when the time comes- like a soldier."

"Of course one should, but not a John's wedding. We wouldn't do that- would we, you and me? We would never do that to John Watson," Sherlock said firmly. Sherlock backed away from the door and John stepped forward. "I'm gonna break it down," he said after a moment of listening.

"No, wait, wait, you won't have to," Mary said.

"Hmm?" John said. The door handle rattled as it was being unlocked from the inside. Major SHolto appeared, and his eyes locked on Sherlock before shifting to John. "I believe I am in need of medical attention," he said.

"I believe I am your doctor," John replied. Sholto turned to enter the room, and John followed. Mary smiled at Sherlock before following the men. Sherlock gestured me inside, and followed behind me.

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Several hours later, evening had fallen and Sherlock and Janine were nowhere to be found. John had enlisted my assistance in finding them, and we found them away from the crowd in large hall. "Well, glad to see you've pulled, Sherlock, what with the murders running riot at my wedding," John said as we approached them. He clapped a hand on Sherlock's back, and I stood a little away from the group, feeling quite awkward. "One murder, one nearly murder," he said then turned to Janine. "Loves to exaggerate. YOu should try living with him." The door opened and Greg walked in. "Sherlock?" he said and pointed back the way he came. "Got him for you."

"Ah, the photographer, excellent," he said after clapping his hands. "Thank you." HE walked over to the photographer and pointed to the camera he was holding. "May I have a look at your camera?" he asked.

"Er…. what's this about? I was halfway home," he said and handed it over nervously. Sherlock took the camera, and I shuffled my feet. "You should have driven faster," Sherlock commented. Sherlock looked through the photos stored on the camera for a moment. "Ah, yes. Yes, very good. There, you see?" he smiled. "Perfect."

"What is it?" I asked and stepped up beside him.

"Try looking yourself," he said and handed the camera to me. I shot him a skeptical look before shifting my gaze to the screen and slowly panning through the photos. "There's nothing in here," I sighed as I flipped through the normal wedding photos. I grimaced at the ones of me, and shifted my gaze back to Sherlock. "Exactly. There is always a man who is never in any of the photographs at a wedding. They can go anywhere, and even carry an equipment bag around. You never see his face," Sherlock said. He stepped closer to the photographer. "YOu only ever see…. the camera." he continued and slapped a handcuff on the man's wrist and attached it to the luggage trolley nearby.

"What are you doing? What is this?" the photographer said anxiously. Sherlock turned and held up his phone. "Jonathan Small, today's substitute photographer- known to us as the Mayfly Man. His brother was one of the raw recruits killed in action. Johnny sought revenge on Sholto, worked his way through Sholto's staff, found what he needed. An invitation to a wedding- the one time Sholto would have to be out in public. So, he made his plan, and rehearsed the murder, making sure of every last detail. Brilliant, ruthless, almost certainly a monomaniac- though, in fairness, his photographs are actually quite good," Sherlock explained. He tossed his phone to Greg. "Everything you need's on that. You probably ought to… arrest him or something," Sherlock said. I turned to set the camera down on the floor as Mary walked in, searching for John. She held out a hand to him, and said "Come on!" I turned to walk back into the reception area, but was halted by Patrick.

I bumped into his chest and stumbled backwards, letting out a soft "oof!" He chuckled and caught the tops of my arms before I went sprawling to the floor. He righted me and turned to wrap an arm around my shoulders. "I saved you a spot," he said and guided me away from my best friends. I could hear Sherlock and the Mayfly Man conversing behind me, but I was barely paying attention.

John and Mary were dancing to the tune of a single violin. I kept my gaze between them and the violinist on the low stage. It was Sherlock. He had his gaze trained on the newlyweds, and his face was blank. He was swaying a bit as he played, as he always did. I smiled a knowing smile and shifted my gaze back to John and Mary. John shifted his hand to dip Mary as the tune drew to a close. Mary gasped and John brought her back up into a kiss just as Sherlock finished. The crowd clapped loudly, and I grinned at Sherlock. Janine was applauding just for him, and Sherlock tossed her his buttonhole flower. He had removed it to he wouldn't bruise it while he was playing. I watched John waive his thanks to Sherlock and then turned to look at Patrick. "Don't take it personally," Patrick said in my ear, just low enough that only I could hear. "YOu moved on with Annette, remember? Of course he would attract the attention of another. He still cares for you, you'll see." I sighed and nodded and he pressed a kiss to my cheek as Sherlock stepped up to the microphone. "Ladies and gentleman, er, just one last thing before the evening begins properly. Apologies for earlier. A crisis arose and was dealt with," he paused to take a deep breath. "More importantly, however, today we saw two people make vows. I've never made a vow in my life, and after tonight, I never will again. So, here in front of you all, my first and last vow. Mary and John: whatever it takes, whatever happens, from now on i swear I will always be there, always, for all three of you." I sucked in a deep breath and Sherlock paused as he realised his mistake. "Er, I'm sorry, I mean, I mean two of you. All two of you. Both of you, in fact. I've just miscounted," he stuttered. He took a sharp breath, and my stomach dropped. "Anyway, it's time for dancing," he looked over his shoulder at the DJ. "Play the music again, please, thank you." He made a sweeping gesture as the music started up again and the lights flashed. "Okay, everybody, just dance, don't be shy," he said. He moved down off the stage and the guests began to hesistantly move onto the dance floor. Sherlock made a beeline for John and Mary, and I made my way over to them as well. "Sorry that was one more deduction I wasn't really expecting," Sherlock said as we converged in the center of the crowd of dancing people.

"'Deduction'?" Mary quipped.

"Increased appetite…. change of taste perception….and you were sick this morning. You assumed it was just wedding nerves. YOu got angry with me when i mentioned it to you. All the signs are there…" Sherlock explained, staring at her intensely.

"'The signs'?" she asked. Sherlock glanced over at John before shifting his gaze back to Mary. "The signs of three," Sherlock said. I grabbed Sherlock's hand and twisted our fingers together as it sunk in. "What?" Mary gasped.

"Mary, I think you should do a pregnancy test," Sherlock said carefully. John sighed and let his head drop, and I gave a tentative grin to Mary. "W… th…the statistics of the first trimester are.." Sherlock began, but was cut off by John telling him to shut up. We all froze, and I stared at John in silence. "Just.. .shut up," John said.

"Sorry," Sherlock said. John turned to Mary, and I glanced up at Sherlock. He gazed down at me nervously, and I grinned back. "How did he notice before me? I'm a bloody doctor," John said angrily.

"It's your day off," Sherlock said.

"It's your day off," John replied exasperatedly.

"Don't panic," I chimed in and held my free hand out a bit.

"I'm not panicking!" John said.

"I'm pregnant- I'm panicking," Mary chimed.

"Don't panic. None of you panic" Sherlock said. John and Mary looked down at the ground with concerned expressions, and I glanced up at Sherlock again. "Absolutely no reason to panic," Sherlock said.

"Oh, and you;d know, of course?" John scoffed.

"Yes, I would. YOu're already the best parents in the world. Look at all the practice you've had," he said.

"What practice?" John asked, bewildered.

"Well, you're hardly gonna need us around now that you've got a real baby on the way," I said and gestured to Sherlock and I. John stared at us before grinning and grasping the back of Sherlock's neck and placing a hand on my shoulder. He turned to Mary and placed a hand on her shoulder. We all smiled happily, and I felt like I was floating. Baby Watson would have the greatest parents in the world, and I would make sure to be there to see him or her. "You alright?" John asked Mary.

"Yeah," she replied, a smile still on her face. I turned to look up at Sherlock, and our gazes locked. I smiled and he returned the gesture. We broke away after a few seconds and his gaze shifted back to John and Mary. "Dance," he said abruptly.

"Mm?" John said.

"We can't just stand here, people will wonder what we're talking about," Sherlock said.

"Right," he said. He swept Mary away through the crowd after they both gave us long, wistful smiles. I stood with my fingers still clasped in Sherlock's, but he soon released me. "Aren't you going to dance?" he asked.

"Only if you are," I replied with a smirk. He stared at me for a moment before shifting his gaze over to Janine. She smiled at him and gestured to the man beside her. They shared a thumbs up, and Sherlock turned back to me. "Would you like to accompany me back to Baker Street?" he asked quietly.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," I said with a grin. He smiled back and released my hand. "I'll be right back," he said and made his way to the stage. He paused by his music stand for a few moments before returning to me. He held out an elbow, and we made our way through the crowd. I could feel a few gazes on my back, and risked a glance over my shoulder. Molly, Janine, and Patrick were watching us leave with different expressions. Molly had a concerned look, Janine had a jealous lilt to her lips, and Patrick had a knowing smile. I winked at my elder brother as Sherlock pulled me out of the hall. He retrieved his coat and we stood in silence for a long moment. "Would you like to borrow my coat? It's rather cold out," he said quietly.

"Yes, please," I said and rubbed my arms. He smiled and held it so I could slip it on. It was heavy on my shoulders and trailed to the back of my calves. The sleeves were too long, only my fingertips showed, and it hung loosely on me. I grinned at him and buttoned up the coat. He held out his elbow once more, and we made our way out of the venue.


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

We made our way back to Baker Street in a relatively short amount of time. I had left the keys to my car with Patrick so he could drive himself home. Sherlock and I made our way upstairs in the dark, and I handed him his coat as I passed him when I walked into the sitting room. He hung it up, and I went to sit at the table so i could take my sandals off. Sherlock was silent as he breezed around the flat, tidying up his atrocious mess of papers and books. "You don't have to clean for me" I said quietly, not wanting to disturb the calm. He ignored me and continued to organize his things. I carefully placed my sandals along the wall by the door to the kitchen just as Sherlock finished clearing up the coffee table. I stood with my hands behind my back and looked around awkwardly. "Did you need me for something?" I said carefully as Sherlock stopped moving to face me.

"No," he said softly. I met his gaze before looking around once more. "Then, if you don't mind, I'm going to have a bath," I said and rocked on my heels once before turning and making my way into the bathroom. I chewed my lip as I shut the door and reached up to undo my hair. My scalp was aching, and I sighed as the pressure was released as I removed each pin. My hair cascaded down around my shoulders in copper curls, and I smiled at myself in the mirror as I finger combed them. I turned to start the water for my bath and moved to remove my makeup with a tissue. I was procrastinating attempting to unzip my dress. It was along my spine, and had been relatively easy to get up this morning, but pulling it down wouldn't be so simple. It required bending my arms at awkward angles. I was finally out of things to do, and began the struggle with my zipper.

A few minutes of frustration later, I released a sigh. I turned to switch off the water, and opened the door to the bathroom. Sherlock looked up at me from the table and I grimaced at him. "Can you unzip this? I can't reach," I sighed and walked over to him. I swept my hair out of the way as I walked and he watched me with a perplexed expression. I presented my back to him and held my hair out of the way. He hesitated for a moment before swiftly reaching up pulling the zipper down. I released my hair and carefully held up the front as I walked back to the bathroom. "Thanks, Sherlock," I called before shutting the door once more.

I let my dress drop to the floor and climbed into the warm water with a contented sigh. I sat with my arms crossed behind my head and my bent knees resting on either side of the tub. I let my eyes close and my mind wander. It was lovely to be able to relax in the silence. I could hear Sherlock moving around in the kitchen and assumed he was starting another experiment. I laid in the warm water until it grew cold, and then climbed out and wrapped myself in a towel. I turned to drain the tub and pulled on my panties. I grimaced as I remembered that I didn't have a bra here because it was built into my dress. I wrapped the towel around myself and opened the bathroom. I smiled briefly at Sherlock as I made my way to his room. I grabbed the first shirt I found and pulled it on. I swiftly buttoned it and dried my hair with my towel while I made my way out of his room.

Sherlock was using a pipette to drop a clear liquid into a beaker of another clear liquid, and I could see a milky substance forming in the bottom of the breaker. I padded quietly over to the counter he was working at a he peered up at me through his chemical splash goggles. "You've been quiet," I said hesitantly. He squinted at me a bit before turning back to his chemicals. "Your speech was really good, I think John and Mary loved it," I continued.

"They did," he confirmed.

"He speaks…. Are you going to sleep tonight?" I said.

"No," he responded quickly. I grimaced and walked around towards him. He set his pipette down carefully and looked over at me. I chewed my lip and rocked on my heels. He sighed and moved to remove his goggles and gloves and carefully moved his beaker so it wouldn't be disturbed. He then grabbed my hand and pulled me towards his bedroom. "John and Mary leave for their holiday tomorrow morning," I said as we walked.

"I know," he said and pushed his door open wider so we could pass through. I released his fingers and crawled across the bed to my side. I curled up in a ball on my side and watched him climb in beside me. He laid on his side facing me and peered at me from under his mop of dark curls. I reached out and brushed them out of his eyes with my fingers and then settled that hand back at my side. He smiled tentatively at me, and I returned the smile. "I hope we get a case soon," I sighed and rolled onto my stomach. I was restless now that I was finally trying to fall asleep. Sherlock rolled onto his back and pulled out his phone. "Can you text Patrick and tell him I'm okay?" I asked. He nodded and began typing rapidly.

His phone chimed moments later, and he read the message before turning to me. "He said he is spending the night at my brother's house because he has some work to attend to," Sherlock informed me in a bored voice.

"Thank you," I said and let my eyes fall closed. My mind wandered over the events of the past few weeks, and I rolled over onto my back with an impatient sigh. Sherlock looked up at me from his phone, the screen illuminating his face. "I can't sleep now," I sighed and threw an arm over my eyes. Sherlock remained silent, and I sighed once more. "Your breathing is disturbing my research," Sherlock said.

"Your research is disturbing my breathing," I replied quickly. I peeked out from under my arm to see his mouth pop open and closed like a fish. I grinned at him and moved my arm to my side. I stared up at the ceiling and sighed quietly. Sherlock shifted so he could place his phone on the little table beside him before rolling towards me. I raised my eyebrows as he propped himself up on his hands above me, pinning my arms to my sides. "Wh-what are.." I started to ask but he silenced me with the press of his lips against mine.

I hesitated for a few seconds before returning the kiss. I let my eyes fall closed and allowed him to do whatever he pleased. I had to carefully maneuver my arms up so I could tangle my fingers in his hair. The raven curls were soft against my fingers, and he sighed happily as I ran my fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck. He pulled his lips from mine to kiss along my jaw and neck. I let my eyes flutter closed as he carefully attended to the sensitive skin over my pulse. "Sherlock," I said as gingerly as I could. He paused in his movements and lifted his head to meet my gaze. "What are you intending with this?" I asked prudently.

"...to help you sleep," he said casually.

"This isn't helping…" I sighed and my cheeks warmed a bit. He chuckled and leaned down to kiss the corner of my mouth. "I didn't mean stop," I whined when he tried to roll off of me. I locked my legs around his waist and held him in place. I tugged on his head impatiently, and he pressed his lips back to mine. Our lips parted at the same moment and I grinned as his hand reached up to undo the buttons on my shirt. I broke away and he sighed impatiently. "I need your consent," I said and chewed my lip.

"Consent…" he prompted.

"If you're going to start taking clothes off and such, I need to know you're sure," I said as clearly as I could. He dipped his chin and grinned at me before pressing his lips to mine once more. I released his hair and reached to pull his old tan shirt above his head and threw it to the floor. I broke off to press a kiss to his collarbones and let my fingertips trail across his stomach. "Anytime you feel uncomfortable you need to tell me. I won't be upset," I said and met his gaze. He nodded and reached for my shirt once more.

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I woke up to the irritating sound of an incessant phone ringing. I groaned loudly and rubbed my face before opening my eyes and searching for the little noise machine. Sherlock was buried under his pillow with his arms holding it in place. "You couldn't bother answering it," I sighed and reached over to grab his phone. It was John. "Hello?" I said through my yawn.

"Where are you two?" John asked expectantly.

"Sleeping, why?" I sighed and rubbed my eyes.

"Mary and I wanted you both to see us off," John replied. I could hear the irritation in his voice, and I sighed. "How much time do we have?" I said sleepily.

"Mary and I are on our way to Baker Street, so about five minutes," John replied.

"Okay," I said and hung up. "Sherlock get dressed." I scooted to the edge of the bed and hunted around for my panties and pulled them on. I found the shirt I had knicked from him and swiftly buttoned it up. I stood on shaking legs and stretched before walking over and picking up a pair of pajama bottoms. I pulled them on and rolled the waist up so I wasn't tripping over the ends on the legs. "Sherlock get up. John and Mary are on their way. You're naked," I said and walked over to the sleeping man.

"Why?" he sighed with his eyes closed.

"I'm not going to reply to that. Just do as I ask for once," I sighed and walked out of the room.


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

I headed into the kitchen to start the kettle for tea and to make toast. I shuffled into the sitting room and grabbed my phone off the coffee table before laying on the sofa. Sherlock appeared from the bedroom and I smirked at his state. "Sherlock, you…. look awful," I said and snorted with laughter. His curls stuck up in a crazed manner and he looked exhausted. He shifted a glare at me and walked into the kitchen. "You… have sex hair. John and Mary will know if you don't come here so I can fix it," I called after him. He froze in his tracks and turned to look at me with a grimace. I crooked a finger at him and sat up. He sighed audibly and walked back to me. I pulled him into a seated position in front of me and combed my fingers through his hair.

When I was finished, it was considerably smoother, but it still looked like he had slept. I smiled at him and motioned for him to proceed with his previous actions. He stood and walked back towards the kitchen just as the kettle whistled. I stood to follow him and handed him a piece of toast as I passed the plate. "In case you decided to eat today," I said with a grin. He remained silent and elected to take a bite as he moved to start another experiment. I smiled at him and made a cup of tea.

Just as I settled at the table, John and Mary walked into the flat. "Good morning," John said. I grinned at him and sipped my tea with my feet propped up on the chair across from me. John walked over and kissed the top of my head and Mary sat in the chair beside me. "Are you excited?" I asked her. She grinned and nodded, and I smiled back. Sherlock was a silent storm through the kitchen as he went about his experiment. John stood out of the way with a concerned expression. I quirked an eyebrow at him when he met my gaze and he shrugged. I shrugged back and finished my tea. "Sherlock, you okay?" John asked tentatively. Sherlock glanced at him and manufactured a smile before returning to his microscope. John rolled his eyes and made his way back to Mary. "Well, we best be off. Don't want to miss our flight," he said and helped Mary up from her seat. I stood and hugged the both of them before turning to Sherlock. He glanced between the three of us before walking over and kissing Mary's cheek and shaking John's hand. "Keep in touch," he said with a plastic smile.

"We'll call when we get settled," Mary replied firmly. They waved to us and made their way out of the flat. I gave them a parting smile before turning back to Sherlock. "You okay?" I asked quietly. He glanced at me and hesitated before turning back to his microscope. "Sherlock," I sighed and walked over to him.

"I am fine," he said firmly without looking up. I grabbed his chin in my hand and forced him to look me in the eye. "Tell me," I said firmly. He met my gaze and was silent for several minutes before finally opening his mouth to speak. "We….didn't…. use protection," he said in an impossibly small voice.

"I can't get pregnant," I reminded him with a grimace. He receded into his mind once more and I gently released his chin. I kissed his cheek and headed off to call Patrick.

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In the time that John and Mary were away on holiday, a lot happened in London. Patrick announced that Mycroft had invited him to live with him, much to my surprise. I was suspicious of that arrangement, and he had avoided me like the plague for days after he had told me. I had a few options on my living arrangements. I could have stayed in the flat I was already living in, move back in with Sherlock, or move back home with my mother. I sat and debated over these options for four hours in the sitting room of 221B. Sherlock ignored me as I spoke out loud and waved my hands in the air. He sat with his laptop on the couch while I paced around. "Sherlock… what would you pick?" I sighed and rubbed my forehead with my right hand.

"Live with me," he responded immediately.

"Why?" I said and spun to walk back the other direction.

"You don't have to live alone, which is not a good thing for you. You crave human contact. You don't even notice that you reach out to hold mine or John's hand when we're out and about," Sherlock said carefully, his gaze locked on the spot I was standing when I first asked the question.

"I do?"

"Yes,"

"Does it bother you?" I asked quietly. He shook his head no, and I smiled slightly. "I definitely don't want to move back home to mummy. She'll just coddle me," I sighed. Sherlock chuckled and leaned back in his seat. He had set the laptop on the coffee table and was completely focused on me once more. "So, I guess that settles it. I'm moving back to Baker Street," I sighed and shrugged. I walked over to him and climbed into his lap and laid my head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around my back and stared up at the ceiling with his head resting on the back of the couch.

I could hear the patter of rain on the windows as the room fell silent. Thunder rumbled outside and I smiled excitedly. "I love storms," I said quietly.

"They help me think," Sherlock said. I let my eyes fall closed and listened to the storm and his even breathing. It was late in the evening, and I could hear Mrs. Hudson downstairs. She was probably cleaning up her sitting room or something of that manner. My phone chimed and I leaned back to wrestle it out of my jeans and held it up to my face so I could read the text from Patrick

**Are you coming back to our flat tonight? **

I sighed and typed a quick reply

**It's raining, so no. **

I glanced up at Sherlock as I waited for Patrick's reply. He was still in the same position, and his eyes were closed. I smiled and looked down just as my phone chimed once more

**Mycroft and I will be by tomorrow morning to propose a new case for Sherlock. **

I rolled my eyes and responded

**He won't accept, but you can try. **

Then I tossed my phone onto the couch beside us and laid my head back where it was. "Our dear brothers will be by tomorrow morning," I said with my eyes shut. Sherlock remained silent, and I leaned back to look at him. His eyes were open, and he was staring blankly at the ceiling. I waited silently for him to return. He lifted his head and our gazes locked. "Did you hear me?" I asked.

"Mycroft and Patrick are coming tomorrow morning," he confirmed. I smiled and nodded before reaching up and running my fingers through his curls. He leaned into my touch slightly and I chuckled. "It's nice, isn't it?" I said and moved to trace the features of his face. His eyes fluttered closed and he relaxed completely. I smiled as I ran my fingertips over his jaw and cheekbones. I paused to cradle his cheeks in my palms, and leaned my face forward to kiss his lips. The kiss started out gentle and slow, but that didn't last for long.

I leaned up on my knees and cupped the back of his skull with my right hand. He trailed his fingertips along my spine, following the hills and valleys of each vertebra. We angled our heads and he licked along the seam of my lips. I allowed him entrance immediately, and he tightened his grip on my lower back, pressing me closer. I leaned back to catch my breath and grinned at him. "To the bedroom?" I asked with a smirk. He nodded and hooked his hands under my thighs while he stood. "Don't drop me," I said and rolled my eyes as he carried me across the sitting room and down the hall to his room.

He set me down on the edge of the bed and stepped back to unbutton his shirt. I crossed my arms and pulled my shirt up over my head. I tossed it into the corner and hooked my fingers in the loops of Sherlock's trousers. I dragged him forward and he bent to kiss my forehead and down along my temple to my lips. I grinned and scooted back to the center of the bed to lay on the pillows. He kicked off his shoes and followed me, settling above me.

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I woke up the next morning alone, and I immediately rolled to stand and glanced around. I could hear voices coming from the sitting room and sighed before standing and hunting for some acceptable clothing. I pulled on my bra and panties before grabbing a pair of cotton shorts and a shirt. The shirt was plain black and hung loosely on my frame. I walked to the mirror and checked my appearance before walking down the hall towards the source of the voices.

Patrick and Mycroft were sitting on the couch with a tea tray set out on the table in front of them. "There's my little sister," Patrick said and stood to walk around the table and wrap his arms around me. I grunted when he squeezed too tight and smiled at him. He kissed my cheek and walked back to his seat beside Mycroft. I gave the elder Holmes a wave and turned on my heel to walk into the kitchen. Sherlock was searching through the cabinets and I quirked an eyebrow at him as I headed to make toast. "What are you searching so vigorously for?" I said and crossed my arms as I leaned on the counter.

"My phone," he responded.

"In the cabinets?" I said incredulously. He sighed and continued his hunt. I glanced around the flat and then walked over to his chair. I lifted the seat and smirked as I pulled out the little device. I whistled to the consulting detective and waved the phone. He grinned and walked over to me. He kissed both of my cheeks and plucked the phone from my grasp. He walked over towards our brothers and I made my way back to my toast.

We were soon all settled in the sitting room, and I looked expectantly at Mycroft. "You said you had a case for us?" I prompted before taking a bite from my toast.

"Yes, but as it turns out, I've already solved it. It was a trivial thing, wouldn't interest my dear brother in any manner," Mycroft replied with a sneer at his younger brother.

"You are quite right," Sherlock replied with an equal sneer. I rolled my eyes at Patrick and took another bite of toast. Sherlock was looking through his phone intently, and I sighed. "Have they called?" I asked.

"No,"

"They're probably asleep,"

"Doubtful," Sherlock said in a monotone voice. I sighed and finished my toast. Mycroft set his empty tea cup on the tray, and turned to look at Patrick expectantly. I quirked my eyebrow at my older brother and he swallowed his tea while he set his cup down as well. He glanced over at Sherlock before his eyes met mine once more. "Do you have something to tell me?" I asked slowly.

"Yes," Patrick replied reluctantly.

"Well?" I prompted. Patrick hesitated and Sherlock glanced up at my brother. The consultant detectives mouth popped open and there was a pause before the words came tumbling out. "It appears that your brother has sentimental feelings for mine," he said with a grimace. Patrick blushed and I grinned. Mycroft glared at Sherlock before turning back to Patrick. "Are they… reciprocated?" I asked hesitantly.

"Undoubtedly," Mycroft sighed and rolled his eyes. My grin grew and Sherlock rolled his eyes. Patrick rubbed his forehead and glanced over at Mycroft before his gaze locked onto mine. "Well, don't worry about me not approving, dear brother. Bisexual, remember?" I prompted. Patrick nodded and grinned at me before shifting his gaze to Sherlock. "If you're seeking my approval, I care little for the trivial things people call relationships. So carry on," Sherlock said without looking up from his phone. I grimaced and Patrick settled a sympathetic gaze on me. Mycroft shifted his gaze between Sherlock and I before letting a smile cross his features.

Mycroft and Patrick left an hour after their little announcement, and I made my way to the shower. Sherlock followed me into the bathroom, and I rolled my eyes at him as I undressed. I climbed in and Sherlock leaned against the sink with his arms crossed. "Have you menstruated since we had sex the first time?" he asked suddenly. I yanked the shower curtain back and peered out at him. "Where did that come from?" I squeaked.

"Doctors are sometimes wrong," he said and shrugged.

"Well, I shouldn't yet," I mumbled and leaned back into the shower. Sherlock was silent, and I continued on with my shower. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach, and I swallowed thickly. My cycle was supposed to start within the next few days, and I was praying for it to arrive. I cannot handle a baby.

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John and Mary returned from their holiday, and John and Sherlock went off to do something for Scotland Yard. I sat with Mary in her kitchen, and I was completely nervous. "Mary," I said in a small voice. She looked up at me from her tablet and waited for me to speak. "I…..I did a pregnancy test…. and it…. it was positive," I choked out without meeting her gaze. She gasped and stood from her chair. She walked over and embraced me. "Are you sure?" she asked, and I could hear the excitement in her voice.

"I did two," I sighed and leaned into her.

"Please tell me you know the father," she said and leaned back to grasp my shoulders so she could see my face. I nodded and reached up to rub my face. "Well?" she prompted.

"I'm not sure I'm ready for the whole world to know," I said quietly, my voice wavering. "I am gonna get so fat." She snorted and patted my cheek. "We can get fat together," she promised. I gave her a hesitant grin and she released me so she could sit across from me. "You can't tell anyone," I said and drummed my fingertips on the table.

"Of course not," she said with a smile. I nodded to her and let my head rest on my hands. I stayed like that until John and Sherlock returned, and I let my gaze lock with Mary's in a silent warning before Sherlock dragged me out of their flat. He plucked my keys from my fingers and headed for the driver's seat. I rolled my eyes and sat in the passenger side. We were silent as we made our way back to Baker Street, and I couldn't lose the feeling of dread.

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Several weeks later, and I found myself curled up on John and Mary's couch. Sherlock had disappeared a month ago, and John had offered to let me stay with them whenever I needed to. Patrick moved in with Mycroft, and I moved into John's old room. There was an incessant banging from the front door, and I rolled to my feet. John and Mary made their way downstairs, and John reached the door first. "I know it's early, really I'm sorry," the woman said with tears streaming down her face. Mary pulled on her dressing gown and walked up to stand behind John. "Is that Kate?" she asked.

"Y-yeah, it's Kate," John replied. Kate let out a sob and I quirked an eyebrow at John. "Let her in," I prompted.

"Er, yes, sorry. Do you want to come in, Kate?" John asked. He stepped aside and Kate walked in, making her way towards Mary. She wrapped a protective arm around her shoulder and guided her towards the sofa I was sleeping on. I rubbed my eyes and made my way to the loo. I peered in the mirror at my abdomen. I sighed and rubbed along my scar before relieving myself and washing my hands.

I walked back towards Kate, John, and Mary. John was just starting to make his way upstairs, and I quirked an eyebrow at him. "He's going to go get Kate's son," Mary explained. I nodded and grabbed my stack of clothes before turning on my heel and heading back into the bathroom. I changed and brushed my hair up into a bun before brushing my teeth and heading out of the bathroom to pull on my trainers. I met John at the bottom of the stairs and Mary followed us outside. "I'll keep him safe, Mary. Take care of Kate," I said and kissed her cheek.

"Since when do you both need to go?" she said.

"Since you have a crying woman in your sitting room. John and I can handle it. I've got this," I said and showed her my knife in my right boot. She rolled her eyes at me, and I climbed into the driver's side of my car. "Come along, John," I called. He kissed Mary on both cheeks and her lips before saying something to her quietly and turning to climb into the car. "I have a tire iron on the floor in the back seat if you need it," I said as I started to drive.

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We arrived at the dump they called a house, and I grimaced at it. John chuckled and climbed out so he could retrieve the tire iron from the boot of the car. I climbed out and checked the state of my knife before following John towards the front door. There was a sign on the door that read 'PRIVATE PROPERTY. KEEP OUT,', and John banged on the door loudly. He called out and the door was answered by a young, unimpressive man. "What d'you want?" he asked gruffly.

"'Scuse us," I said and pushed passed him, pulling John beside me.

"Naah, naah, you can't come in here!" the dirty guy called after us. He followed us angrily and I glanced into the rooms we passed before the guy grabbed my shoulder. I grabbed his forearm stepped to the outside of his elbow and twisted his arm up behind his back. I rammed him into the nearest wall and leaned in close to his ear. "I'm looking for a very specific friend, and I have a severe case of PTSD. Kindly keep your hands to yourself, or I will cut it off," I hissed to him. I pulled his arm up higher, and he cried out. I released him and stepped back to John's side. "Now, have you seen Isaac Whitney?" John asked with his arms crossed. The man pulled a flick knife from his pocket and brandished at us. I swiftly pulled my knife out of my boot, and my blade had nearly two inches on his. "Are we really going to dance this waltz?" I said with a grin.

"Now, answer my question," John said and stepped closer to the guy. His eyes flicked between us and he attempted to swing at John. John caught his wrist and squeezed enough for him to drop the knife before slamming his right arm into his left forearm. The dirty man cried out in pain, and John slammed him into the wall and used his foot to sweep his feet out from under him. "Are you concentrating yet?" John asked.

"YOu broke my arm!" he cried. I giggled and stepped up beside John, tucking my knife back into my boot. "No, I sprained it," John replied.

"It feels squishy! Is it supposed to feel squishy?" he cried.

"Yeah, it's a sprain. I'm a doctor- I know how to sprain people," John said after reaching out to squeeze his arm.

"Now, where is Isaac Whitney?" I asked and crouched beside John, my head tilted a bit.

"I don't know!"

"Are you sure?" I said and reached for my knife.

"Maybe upstairs!" he cried. I smirked and straightened out while John patted the guy's leg and asked if that was easy. John stood and I lead the way towards the stairs. We walked into a large room where people were huddled around in the throes of a high. It smelled like rotting wood and grimy people. I grimaced and John called out Isaac's name. I walked over towards two people lying on two separate mattresses and called out Isaac's name once more. One of them tiredly raised their hand and I waved John over. "Hello, mate," John said and approached the man. "Sit up for me? Sit up." He helped the guy to sit up and I crouched beside John on the guy's left. "Doctor Watson?" the guy asked.

"Yep,"

"Where am I?"

"The arse-end of the universe with the scum of the Earth," I replied with a smirk.

"Look at me," John ordered gently.

"Have you come for me?" Isaac asked desperately.

"Do you think I know a lot of people here?" John joked. I heard movement behind me and turned my head slightly a sucked in a deep breath. "Ah, hello, John, Jamie," Sherlock Holmes said. He was wearing a grimy pair of jogging bottoms and a jacket with the hood up. "Didn't expect to see you here," Sherlock continued. I turned more to get a proper look at him and he pushed his hood back to reveal his greasy black curls. "Did you come for me too?" he asked. I peered at him for a second, before turning back to look at John. He had a scowl on his face and he sighed.

We sent Isaac outside while John and I took care of Sherlock. "Get up you bloody idiot," I ordered and dragged the man to his feet. He groaned and John caught his other side as he wobbled slightly on his feet. Sherlock shrugged us both off and I sighed. "You could have talked to me!" I said and followed him out of the building. John followed angrily, and I sighed. Sherlock angrily punched open a temporary door and it went spiraling out into the outside. "A whole month!" John finally shouted.

"For God's sake I'm on a case," Sherlock shouted as he jumped down onto a trashcan.

"For a month!" I shouted.

"I'm working!" Sherlock replied.

"Sherlock Holmes in a drug den, how's that gonna look?" John said as he followed us down to the ground.

"I'm undercover," Sherlock responded gruffly.


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

"No you're not!" I scoffed. I jumped down off of the dust bin and John followed me. "Well I'm not now!" Sherlock shouted and waved his hands angrily. I smirked and followed him across the concrete towards my car. Isaac was waiting with his arms crossed. I remotely unlocked it and we all climbed in. I pulled out my phone as I started the car and prepared to text Molly

**Sherlock Holmes needs to pee in a cup**

I then texted Mary

**We have Isaac. He's okay. Meet us at Bart's. **

I glanced up as the guy from the entrance tapped on my window. "Can I come? I think I've got a broken arm," he said desperately.

"Fine. Get in quickly then," I sighed. Sherlock shifted over to the middle and the guy climbed in. "We're taking everyone home I guess," I sighed and started to drive.

"All right, Shezza?" the newcomer asked. I gripped the steering wheel tighter and turned to look at Sherlock, the car rolling to a stop. "'Shezza'," I said, my cheeks burning in anger.

"I was undercover," Sherlock replied.

"But, 'Shezza'. Seriously. That… that one was mine," I grumbled. Sherlock rolled his eyes at me, and I turned back around so I could drive properly. "Why didn't you turn left?" Sherlock called when I made the right.

"We're not going home. We're going to Bart's. Sherlock Holmes needs to pee in a jar," I replied.

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We arrived at Bart's and I grabbed Sherlock's wrist to drag him down to the lab. Molly handed him a cup and I ushered him to the restroom. Mary met us and took care of the guy's arm while Molly did the tests. Sherlock sulked beside me and I sighed. I absentmindedly rubbed my lower abdomen and quickly dropped my hand when I noticed what I was doing. Molly leaned back from her microscope and pulled off her gloves with a snap. "Well is he clean?" I asked.

"Clean," Molly scoffed as she walked over to stand infront of SHerlock. I sucked in a breath as she slapped him hard on both cheeks. "How dare you throw away the beautiful gifts you were born with?" she scolded and bhe blinked at her as he rubbed his cheeks. Molly glanced at me and John before turning back to Sherlock. "And how dare you betray the love of your friends? Say you're sorry," she continued.

"Sorry your engagement's over- though I'm fairly grateful for the lack of a ring," Sherlock said and cupped his cheek. I sucked in a deep breath and gently pushed Molly out of the way so I could slap him. He glared at me and I glared back. "You say you're sorry right now," I said in a dangerously low voice. He looked down at the floor and I rubbed my face in agitation before walking off to stand by Mary before walking back to him. "YOu could have called. You could have said something. YOu didn't need to get into this stuff again," I sighed.

"Please do relax, this is for a case," SHerlock replied.

"What kind of case would you need to be doing this?" I said skeptically.

"I might as well ask you why you've started spending the nights at John and Mary's," Sherlock replied.

"We're not playing this game," I replied.

"For a while now too," Sherlock quipped. I clenched my fist and turned my back on him. I took a few deep breaths before turning back to him. "I'm not interested in talking about that," I said in a calm voice.

"I am," the guy, I learned his name was Bill, chimed in. I glared over at him and rubbed my face. "Sherlock, why do you attract the weirdest people?" I sighed and gestured to Bill.

"I could say the same about you," Bill called. I glared at him and reached for my knife. Sherlock caught my arm in his left and I glared at him. I yanked my arm out of his grasp and walked over towards John. "Has she always walked like that?" Bill asked Mary. I glanced over at him before sending a panicked look to Mary. "No, she just recently picked that up," Sherlock replied. I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose to hide the building panic in my chest and John touched my shoulder. The room fell into silence, and Molly went to clean up her mess. I watched her and rubbed my abdomen once more, not really noticing what I was doing. Mary was speaking to Isaac and Bill and Sherlock was watching me and John. I shuffled from foot to foot, not really sure what to do. "You okay?" John asked quietly.

"Oh, yeah," I said and gave him a brief smile.

"You seem…. anxious," he said.

"Let it go, John," I said and turned to look at Sherlock. I saw Mary glancing at me every so often and sighed. "I'll be right back," I said and walked out of the lab. I made my way to the bathroom and I heard someone following me. I went to relieve myself and wash my hands before stepping out the the bathroom and into Sherlock Holmes. "Is there something you're not telling me?" he asked suddenly as he caught my upper arms. I met his gaze briefly before studying our shoes. "Jamie, you know I will find out eventually. You always tell me," he prompted.

"Well then figure it out, Consultant Detective," I replied and walked back towards the lab. Sherlock caught my shoulder and pulled me back in front of him. My back was pressed up against the wall and he was close to me. "If you're planning on kissing me, don't. You're gross," I said with a smirk. He sighed and rolled his eyes before pressing closer. I glanced up and down the hall before tilting my chin to peck him on the lips. "There, now let me go," I said. He sighed and released me and I darted back to the lab.

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I took John and Isaac home while Mary took Bill home. Sherlock and I then made our way back to Baker Street. We had just walked into the flat when a volley of questions were thrown at me. "Are you sick?" Sherlock asked.

"Nope,"

"Is it your mummy?"

"Nope,"

"Is it Patrick?"

"You aren't reading correctly, Sherlock. I thought you were supposed to be a professional," I teased as I walked around the kitchen, putting away the dishes. Sherlock sighed and picked up his violin. I listened to him play a favorite tune of mine as he stared out the window. I walked over to the couch and sat with my feet tucked underneath me and rested my head on my arm on the armrest. Sherlock's phone chimed and he pulled it out to read the text. "Ah, finally," he said.

"'Finally' what? Good news?"

"Excellent news- the best. There's every chance my drug habit might hit the papers. The game is on," he replied with a grin. He lifted the phone to his ear and made his way to his room. "Excuse me for a second," he called before closing the door. I pulled out my own phone and began a call of my own. "Hello, Jamie," Mycroft Holmes said when he answered.

"As I'm sure you already know, our dear Sherlock has picked up his deplorable habits once more. YOu should probably make your way over here. He needs a good talking to," I said and smirked.

"I'll be there shortly. Make sure John Watson is there as well," he replied and hung up. I grinned and called John so he could make his way over here as well.

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JOhn and Mycroft arrived and I served them both tea, and Sherlock emerged from his room with a scowl on his face. "What are you doing here, Mycroft?" Sherlock said as he walked towards his chair.

"Back on the sauce, Sherlock?" Mycroft replied, ignoring his little brother. Sherlock glared at him and shifted his gaze to me. "Why did you phone him?" he said angrily.

"Because I did," I replied with a shrug.

"The siren call of old habits. How very like Uncle Rudy- though, in many ways, cross-dressing would have been a wiser path for you," Mycroft said with a sneer. "Now, save me a little time. Where should we be looking?"

"'We'?" I prompted and quirked my lips. I looked up as Anderson walked into the flat and my face fell into a grimace. "Oh for God's sake!" Sherlock crowed. Anderson stepped in, followed by a group of people. Sherlock sighed and curled up in his chair with his hood up. "BE nice Sherlock, some of your little fan club were nice enough to come search the toxic waste dump you call home," Mycroft scolded. "You're a celebrity these days Sherlock, you can't afford a drug habit."

"Hey, what happened to my chair?" John said and pointed at it. I quirked my eyebrow and glanced between him and the place his chair was. "It was blocking my view to the kitchen," Sherlock responded.

"What have you found so far?" Mycroft called to Anderson, who was searching through the kitchen drawers.

"There's nothing to find," Sherlock replied with his eyes closed.

"YOur bedroom door is shut," Mycroft commented. I raised my eyebrows higher and glanced at the door. I hadn't looked in his room yet today. "You haven't been here all night, so why would a man who has never knowingly closed a door without the direction of his mother bother to do so now?" Mycroft continued and began walking towards the door.

"Okay, stop! JUst stop," Sherlock shouted and sprang up in his seat as Mycroft touched the handle. "Point made."

"Jesus, Sherlock," John sighed.

"Have to phone our parents, of course, in Oklahoma," Mycroft said as he walked back towards us. Sherlock looked down and squeezed his eyes shut. "Won't be the first time your substance abuse has wreaked havoc with their line-dancing," Mycroft continued.

"This is not what you think. This is for a case," Sherlock said as he stood and walked towards his older brother.

"What case could possibly justify this?" Mycroft scoffed.

"Magnussen," Sherlock replied. Mycroft's smile was wiped from his face. "Charles Augustus Magnussen," Sherlock repeated.

"That name you think you may have just heard- you were mistaken. If you ever mention hearing that name in this room, in this context, I guarantee you- on behalf of the British secret services- that materials will be found on your computer hard drives resulting in your immediate incarceration. Don't reply, just look frightened and scuttle," Mycroft said to Anderson and the Sherlock fan club. They immediately made their way out of the flat and closed the door. John walked over and sat on the couch beside me, and I propped my feet in his lap. "I hope I won't have to threaten you as well," Mycroft said to us.

"I'd love to see that, Mikey," I said as inspected my nails. Mycroft huffed and John chuckled. "Magnussen is not your business," Mycroft said to Sherlock sternly.

"Oh, you mean he's yours," Sherlock said while turning and pointing at his brother.

"You may consider him under my protection," Mycroft said.

"I consider you under his thumb," Sherlock replied nonchalantly.

"If you go against Magnussen, then you will find yourself going against me." Mycroft replied in a quiet, ominous voice.

"Okay. I'll let you know if I notice," Sherlock replied while strolling toward the kitchen door. "Er what was I going to say?" Sherlock said and opened the door. "Oh, yeah. Bye-bye." He pointed the way out and Mycroft walked towards him. "Unwise brother mine," Mycroft said as he faced his brother. Sherlock lunged and grabbed Mycroft's left arm just below the elbow. He twisted his arm behind his back and slammed him into the wall beside the door. "Brother mine, don't appeal me when I'm high," Sherlock hissed. I launched to my feet and dashed over to the boys. "Mycroft, don't say another word. Just leave. He could snap you in two, and I really don't want to make the trip to the hospital," I said to the elder Homes. Mycroft wrestled himself free of his brothers grasp and clutched his injured arm. I bent carefully to pick up his dropped umbrella and handed it to him before pushing his right shoulder so he was out of the door. "Good night," I called and closed it. I brushed my hand across my abdomen as I turned to walk back to the couch and prop my feet up on John's lap once more. "Magnussen?" I prompted Sherlock.

"What time is it?" Sherlock asked.

"About eight," John replied. Sherlock sniffed deeply and sighed disgustedly. "I;m meeting him in three hours. I need a bath," Sherlock replied. HE walked through the kitchen towards the hallway and I tracked him with my eyes. "It's for a case you said?" I called.

"Yep,"

"What sort of case?"

"Too big and dangerous for any sane individual to get involved in," Sherlock replied.

"You trying to put us off?"

"God, no," Sherlock said and placed his hand on the bathroom door. "I'm trying to recruit you." He opened the door and stepped into the bathroom. "And stay out of my bedroom." Sherlock called before shutting the door. John glanced at me, and I lifted my feet so he could go and inspect it. He walked towards his room, but the door opened. "Ph, John, hi," Janine said as she stepped out. I raised my eyebrows and my stomach swirled. She opened the door wider and stepped out in one of Sherlock's shirts. I studied her legs before looking back up at her. "How are you?" she asked.

"Janine?" John asked in disbelief.

"Sorry, not dressed," she said and made her way to the kitchen. "Has everyone gone, I heard shouting. Oh, hello, Jamie." I gave her a small wave and she grinned back. "Yes, they're all gone," John replied.

"God, look at the time. I'll be late," she said and glanced at her watch. She walked over to the counter and began to make coffee. "Sounded like an argument. Was it Mike?" she asked.

"Mike?"

"Mike, yeah, his brother, Mike. They're always fighting,"

"Mycroft,"

"Do people actually call him that?" she scoffed.

"Yeah," I called from the couch. I was scrolling through John's blog on my phone, checking the comments. "Huh!" Janine said. She walked back towards the hallway, but stopped to put a hand on John's shoulder. "Oh, how's Mary? How's married life?" she asked. ]

"She's fine. We're both fine, yeah," John replied with an uncertain smile. We were both completely confused and shocked. Janine glanced around and walked a few feet away from John. "Where's Sherl?" she asked.

"Sherl?" I choked.

"Yeah. Where did he go?"

"He's having a bath…. I'm sure he'll be out in a minute," I replied carefully.

"Oh like he ever is!" she said with an amused smile.

"Yeah," John said slowly. She made her way to the bathroom and knocked briefly before going in. "Room for a little one?" she asked and closed the door. John and I locked gazes as giggling fluttered from the bathroom. I beckoned him back over, and he settled on the end of the couch with his cup of coffee. "I have no idea what to say to that," I said and rubbed my face.

"I'm a bit shocked, yeah," John replied. I chewed my lip and John sipped his coffee. I picked up my phone once more and sent a text to Mary

**You haven't told anyone about my predicament, have you? **

I didn't have to wait long for her reply

**Of course not. **

I let out a small sigh of relief and tucked my phone into my pocket. I absentmindedly rubbed my lower abdomen as I stared off into space, thinking about nothing in particular. "You okay?" John asked quietly. I focused on him and stilled my hand. "Yeah, why?" I said, nervousness tightening my chest.

"You rub your stomach a lot," he replied.

"I'm fine," I insisted.

"If you're sure," John said and took a final sip of his coffee. He set his cup on the table and I glanced up as Sherlock and Janine emerged from the bathroom before shifting my gaze back down to my phone. Janine was wrapped in a towel and Sherlock just had his trousers on. She made her way into the bedroom and shut the door, and Sherlock grabbed a white shirt off the back of one of the dining room chairs and pulled it on. "I'm sure you have some questions," Sherlock said as he began buttoning it.

"Yeah, just a few," John said slowly.

"YOu have a girlfriend?" John said, shock clear in his voice.

"Yes I have," Sherlock responded with a small smile. I quirked an eyebrow, but remained silent, wiggling my toes a bit. "Now, Magnussen. Magnussen is like a shark- it's the only way I can describe him. Have you ever been to the shark tank at the London Aquarium, John, Jamie- stood up close to the glass? Those floating flat faces, those dead eyes… That's what he is. I've dealt with murderers, psychopaths, serial killers. None of them can turn my stomach like Charles Augustus Magnussen," Sherlock explained, his face very serious. I glanced up and he met my gaze. I shifted uncomfortably, my lower back beginning to ache, and wiggled my toes once more. Sherlock squinted at me and then shifted his gaze back when Janine exited the bedroom. "Okay, you three, behave yourselves," she said as she approached. Sherlock was sitting in his chair, and she perched herself on the arm. "And you, Sherl, I going to have to tell me where you were last night," she said.

"Working,"

"'Working'. Of course. I'm the only one who really knows what you're like, remember?" she said. John glanced over at me and pinched my toe when he saw my scowl. "Don't you go letting on," Sherlock said softly.

"I might just actually," she said back. They gazed deep into each other's eyes, and I gagged a bit. "I haven't told Mary about this. I kind of wanted to surprise her," Janine said and turned to look at John.

"Yeah, you probably will," John replied.

"But we should have you two over for dinner really soon!" she said.

"Yeah!" Sherlock agreed.

"My place, though- not the scuzz dump," she said and punched Sherlock in the shoulder affectionately. They both laughed, and I rolled my eyes at my phone. "Great, yeah, dinner! Yeah," John said. Janine stood and John followed suit, dumping my feet onto his previously occupied seat. "It was great seeing you!" she said. "I've gotta dash!"

"Yeah, you too!" John said. Sherlock stood and escorted her to the living room door. "Have a great day, call me later," Sherlock said as he opened it for her.

"I might do. I might call you later- if I don't find someone prettier," she teased as she fiddle with the edge of his jacket. They began to kiss and I watched for a second before looking back down at my phone uncomfortably. My stomach twisted once more and I shifted slightly. I felt the sudden urge to pee and leapt up from my seat. I walked quickly past John and closed the bathroom door behind me. I relieved myself and washed my hands before stepping back out of the bathroom. John and Sherlock were peering at his computed at the kitchen table, and they glanced up when I returned. "Are you sure you're okay?" John asked.

"I'm fine John," I sighed and walked back to the couch. I laid flat on my back with my feet hanging over one of the armrests and closed my eyes. I calculated that I was about two and a half months pregnant in my head and I glanced down discreetly to see if I was showing yet. There was a slight bump, but nothing more. I ignored the boys' quiet conversation and laid with my arm thrown over my face. I was exhausted already. I didn't realize when I began to doze off.

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I couldn't remember the last time I wanted to choke someone for putting their hands on me. Sherlock, John, and I were being patted down in front of our fireplace. They guy swiped my knife from my boot and I opened my mouth to protest, but thought better of it. We all turned when an older man with glasses and cold eyes stepped into the room. "I understood that we were meeting at your office," Sherlock said. "Mr. Magnussen."

"This is my office," he said in an entitled manner. I swallowed down my anger and glanced down at the little bump forming on my abdomen. I made a silent promise to keep my little alien safe and hidden. I felt a cold gaze sweep across me, and I swallowed once more. "Well, it is now," he said.

"Mr. Magnussen, I have been asked to intercede with you by Lady elizabeth Smallwood on the matter of her husband's letters," Sherlock said as Magnussen swiped a newspaper from the table and sat on the sofa. "Some time ago you… put pressure on her concerning those papers." Magnussen glanced up from his paper and leaned back in his seat. "She would liek those letters back," Sherlock continued. Magnussen stared at him blankly as he continued to speak. Magnussen didn't appear to be listening and Sherlock started to repeat himself. "Bathroom?" he asked the security guard over my shoulder, completely ignoring Sherlock.

"Along from the kitchen, sir," the guard responded and nodded his head in the direction.

"Okay,"

"I have been asked to negotiate the return of those letters," Sherlock said more firmly. Magnussen took off his glasses and glanced out of the window. "I'm aware you don't make copies of sensitive documents…" sherlock continued but stopped when Magnussen cut him off.

"Is this like the rest of the flat?" he said and gestured around the room before looking at his guard.

"Sir?" he asked.

"The bathroom?"

"Er, yes, sir,"

"Maybe not then,"

"Am I acceptable to you as an intermediary?" Sherlock insisted.

"Lady Elizabeth Smallwood. I like her," Magnussen said after meeting his gaze before staring out of the window once more.

"Mr. Magnussen, am I acceptable as you intermediary?" Sherlock repeated.

"She's English, with a spine," he continued. He pushed the coffee table away with his foot and stood. The guard removed the fire guard from the fireplace and Magnussen stood before it, as he continued to speak about English people. I heard him unzip his trousers, and I closed my eyes. He finished his business and walked back to face the three of us. "Tell Lady Elizabeth I might need those letters, so I'm keeping them," Magnussen said. "Oh, and I feel a congratulations are in order for you my dear." he said and his eyes settled on me. I swallowed thickly and my heart started to pound. HE dropped the wet wipe he used to wipe his fingers to the floor and turned to leave with a goodbye thrown over his shoulder. He turned back to us at the last second and pulled out a stack of folder papers from his jacket and said, "Anyway… they're funny." He turned to leave and his security guards quickly followed like trained dogs.


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

I swallowed thickly and shuffled away from the fireplace, bile rising in my throat. "Jamie," John said carefully.

"I'm fine," I insisted.

"You're pale. What did he mean?" John insisted. He grabbed my shoulders and I refused to meet his gaze. "Leave it alone, John," I said in a small voice.

"You've been acting different lately, what is it?" John insisted and shook my shoulders a bit.

"I said leave it alone," I said and glared up at him. I shrugged him off and turned to walk into the bathroom. I slammed the door and crouched on my knees in front of the loo. My nerves twisted my stomach painfully and I puked. When I was finished, I wipe my face on my sleeve and sat back with my back against the wall and my legs folded beneath me. I looked up when there was a knock on the door, and sighed. "I said I'm fine," I called. The door opened and Sherlock stepped in. He closed the door behind him, and his coat fluttered as he crouched down in front of me. "Swinging moods, puking randomly, constant urge to urinate," Sherlock listed off slowly, his gaze locked on mine. "Jamie, are you…. pregnant?" I swallowed and he closed his eyes with a sigh. "Who knows?" he asked quietly.

"Just Mary," I replied quietly.

"Does she know who the father is?" he faltered on the word 'father'.

"I didn't tell her," I said in a small voice. My stomach dropped when he looked back up at me. "It's mine, right?" he said softly. I dipped my chin in a nod, and he slowly released a sigh. I swallowed thickly and tears pricked in my eyes. I angrily wiped them away, and Sherlock reached out to cup my cheek. "If you're worried that I won't help you, that's not going to happen. That baby will have an amazing life," he said softly. I let out a quiet sob, and he settled on the floor beside me so he could pull me into his lap. I sobbed into his shoulder, and he gently rushed his fingertips over my abdomen. "Almost three months, right?" he asked after my sobs had died down.

"Pretty sure," I replied softly.

"You're starting to show," he said, and I could hear a slight smile in his voice. I leaned back to stare into his face, and the corners of his mouth were tipped up. "You're happy about this?" I said quietly.

"Of course," he replied.

"Why?" I scoffed.

"Because, I enjoy children," he said quietly. I rolled my eyes and wiped my tears away. I slowly climbed to my feet and pulled him up. I turned to flush the toilet and Sherlock lead the way out of the bathroom. "You can tell the whole world now," I said quietly to him. He chuckled and kissed my temple. John lifted his eyebrows at us, and Sherlock grinned at him. "What are you so cheery about?" John said.

"Well, if you must know, I'm going to be a father," Sherlock said bluntly as he walked past him to retrieve his phone. John froze in his spot and stared at Sherlock with his mouth slightly open. "You're what?"

"Come on, John, you're not that old. I said I'm going to be a father," Sherlock said as he tied his scarf around his neck.

"Since when?" John scoffed.

"Almost three months ago," I chimed in and crossed my arms across my chest.

"Y-you and him?" John said, shock starting to set in in his features.

"Yes, John, do keep up," Sherlock said. "I'm going shopping. I'll text you both instructions for tonight." He made his way to the door and I slowly followed him. "Wait, wait," John called. Sherlock sighed and stopped on the landing, turning back to face us. "I thought Jamie couldn't have children," John said.

"Miracles do happen, John," I said and smirked at him. My heart was lightened at Sherlock's reaction to the news. "You can spread the word if you like. Put it on the blog. Magnussen already knows," I said and waved my hand at him. John squinted at me and Sherlock chuckled. "I'll see you both tonight," Sherlock said. I followed him down the stairs and John trailed after us. "Don't bring your gun or knife," Sherlock instructed as we walked out of the building. I grabbed his shoulder and he spun to face me. "You're going to let me come?" I asked.

"I couldn't keep you away anyways. It'll be easier to keep you both safe," he said and brushed his fingertips across the little bump between my hip bones. He leaned forward to kiss my cheek before bending and kissing where his hands were. My cheeks burned as John stared open-mouthed at us, and Sherlock turned to hail a cab.

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The entirety of Baker Street knew I was pregnant within the hour and they also knew that Sherlock and I had did the deed to produce my little womb nugget. Mrs. Hudson had squealed and insisted on hosting a baby shower for me. I rolled my eyes at her and let her coo over my belly. "I'm hardly showing," I muttered.

"You'll get there dear," she said and patted my cheek. "I've got to call the girls."

"Please don't tell mummy yet," I begged. "Let me."

"Of course, dear," she said. John chuckled from the corner and I shot him a glare. He held an elbow out to me and escorted me from the building. "So, you and Sherlock, huh?" he said as we walked along Baker Street.

"Yep, like twice," I said slowly.

"Like twice or actually twice,"

"Subjectively twice," I muttered. John chuckled and we turned onto the next street. "I'm not going to post it to the blog until you've told your mummy and brother," he said.

"I kind of want you to. It's easier than me telling everyone who asks," I said and rolled my eyes. "I'll tell Pat right now." I pulled out my phone and sent a text to my brother

**Surprise! You're an uncle. **

I smirked and stuffed my phone back into my jacket. "What did you say?" John asked.

"Surprise! You're an uncle," I said. John snorted with laughter and shook his head. "Very tactful," he amended.

"It's blunt. No way he couldn't understand. Now for mummy," I sighed.

"You should probably phone her," John said.

"Probably," I sighed. We continued to walk until we reached a park and I sat on a bench. I pulled out my phone and dialed mummy. "Jamie! How are you sweetheart?" she answered.

"I'm great, mum," I replied.

"I keep up with you on that Doctor Watson's blog," she said.

"i'm sure you do. Listen, I have some very… shocking news for you," I said and swallowed the lump rising in my throat.

"Oh dear, I've been waiting for this call since you we're sixteen," she sighed.

"I'm sure you have. I'm pregnant, mum," I said finally.

"Well, do you know the father? Are you going to marry him?" she prompted.

"Yes, I know the father. I have no idea if I'm going to marry him. That's a bit frightening at the moment," I said. John chuckled from beside me and I rolled my eyes at him. "Are you going to tell me who the father to my grandchild is?" she asked.

"...Sherlock Holmes," I said slowly.

"That detective you spend all your time with. Of course you pick the nutter," she sighed.

"He's not a nutter," I sighed.

"At least he's gorgeous. Your baby will be, too," she replied. I rolled my eyes. "Well, I'm on a walk with John, so I have to go. I'll make a trip out there to you soon. Maybe drag John and Sherlock along too. I'll bring pictures of the baby," I said.

"Good, I love you dear. Be safe. Take care of that little bundle of love," she said. "I love you."

"I love you, too," I replied and hung up.

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I met Sherlock in the lobby of a skyscraper and he immediately brushed his fingertips across my cheeks. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yep, exhausted, but I'm okay," I said and grinned. "Mummy and Patrick know, so Mycroft knows. John is going to post it to his blog after we're done here." Sherlock grinned and glanced around before crouching down to tie my boot laces. "I knew you would bring you knife," he said as he wiggled the handle.

"I don't go anywhere without it," I said with a singsong voice. John walked into the lobby and Sherlock straightened out. "Magnussen's office is at the top floor, just below his private flat… but there are fourteen level of security between us and him," Sherlock said and glanced over towards a lift on the next level up. "Two of which arent even legal in this country. Want to know how we're going to break in?"

"Is that what we're doing?" John asked.

"Of course that's what we're doing," Sherlock replied. He grabbed my hand and laced our fingers together before leading us away. We bought coffee at a stand, and I sipped mine as Sherlock towed me along. I grimaced at the taste and handed it to John. "Nope, coffee is not my thing," I sighed.

"You used to like it," John replied and sighed.

"Well, now Mr. Bighead's little offspring thinks coffee is the worst thing on Earth," I replied. Sherlock rolled his eyes at me. We walked up to the next floor and towards a lift. "Magnussen's private lift. It goes straight to his penthouse and office. Only he uses it… and only his key card calls the lift. Anyone else even tries, security is automatically informed," Sherlock explained as we paused several feet away from a lift. Sherlock pulled out a card. "Standard for the building, gets as far as the canteen. Now, what will happen if I use this card on that lift right now?" he asked.

"The alarms would go off and you'd be dragged away by security," John replied.

"Exactly,"

"Get taken to a small room somewhere and your head kicked in," John continued.

"Do we really need so much color?" Sherlock asked.

"It passes the time," John replied. I snorted with laughter and he smirked at me. Sherlock handed me his coffee cup and pulled out his phone. "But if I do this…" he started and pressed the card to his phone. "If you press a key card against your mobile phone long enough, it corrupts the magnetic strip. The card stops working. It's a common problem- never put your key card with your phone. What happens if I use the card now?"

"It still doesn't work," John said.

"It can't be read as the wrong card now. It registers as corrupted. But if it's corrupted, how do the know it's not Magnussen? Would they risk dragging him off?"

"No, there's a camera at eye height. Obviously for this sort of situation. So the camera comes on and goes to someone upstairs. Probably a secretary who sees Magnussen daily," I said.

"Precisely," he said and leaned to kiss my cheek. "Let's try it." I rolled my eyes at him and he released my hand to step up to the camera. He swiped the card and waited. "Sherlock, you complete loon! What are you doing?" Janine's voice squawked from the little box. I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Hi, Janine. Go on, let me in," Sherlock replied.

"I can't! You know I can't. Don't be silly,"

"Don't make me do it out here. Infront of everyone," Sherlock sighed. He reached into his pocket and held out a tiny red velvet box. "Do what in front of everyone?" Janine asked. I rolled my eyes and he clicked it open to show a shiny diamond engagement ring. I studied the ring before seeing the look on Sherlock's face. It was completely adorable, and my heart melted. The light on the box turned from red to blue and the lift doors opened. Sherlock clicked the box closed and grinned one last time into the camera before we all stepped in. "You see? As long as there's people, there's always a weak spot," Sherlock said as the doors closed.

"That was Janine," John said.

"Yes, of course it was Janine. She's Magnussen's PA, that's the whole point," Sherlock replied.

"Did you just get engaged to break into an office?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said and then turned to John. "Stroke of luck meeting her at your wedding. You can take some of the credit." I set the paper cup down on the floor of the lift and John followed suit. "Sherlock, she loves you," John said.

"Yes, like I said, human error," Sherlock said.

"What are you gonna do? "I asked.

"Well, not actually marry her, obviously. There's only so far you can go," he said.

"So what will you tell her?" I asked.

"Well, I'll tell her that our entire relationship was a ruse to break into her boss's office. I imagine she'll want to stop seeing me at that point… but you both are the experts on women," Sherlock replied with a smirk. The lift stopped and we stepped out, and Sherlock began to look around with his fake smile, searching for his new fiance. She was nowhere to be found. "Where did she go?" I asked.

"It's a bit rude, I just proposed to her," Sherlock replied. I walked over to the window and spotted her on the floor. "Found her," I called and crouched to check her pulse. It was still beating strongly and Sherlock stepped up behind me. "Did she feint? Do they really do that?" he asked.

"It's a blow to the head," I said and showed him the blood on my fingers. John crouched beside me and tested her breathing. "She's breathing. Janine?" She moaned quietly, and I grinned in relief. "There's another in here. White supremacist, ex-con. Stick with Janine," Sherlock said. I nodded in agreement but John rolled his eyes and went over to the man. I gently rolled Janine over and laid her head in my lap, brushing her hair out her face. "Check upstairs. They must still be here," I hissed to Sherlock. He nodded and made his way in that direction. "Janine, sweetheart, can you open your eyes?" I asked. She did and peered up at me with a confused expression. "Can you see properly?" I asked and gave her a tentative smile.

"Yes," she sighed quietly. "My head hurts."

"You we're hit with something, you're going to have a nasty headache," I replied.

"Where's Sherl?" she asked.

"Upstairs making sure everyone else is okay," I replied. She sighed happily and her eyes flutter closed. "No, no, open those eyes please. You may have a concussion, don't fall asleep," I said. She looked up at me and studied my face carefully. "You're Jamie, right?" she asked.

"The one and only," I replied.

"I've heard so much about you," she replied.

"I'm sure you have. Word spreads when you fraternize with Sherlock Holmes," I said with a smirk. She grinned back and reached up to rub her eyes. I strained to hear upstairs, and then I heard it. The unmistakable sound of a gun. I laid Janine as gently as I could on the floor and launched myself up the stairs. I crashed into a room with John o my heels, and fell to my knees beside Sherlock. "Sherlock!" I screamed and patted his cheeks. "Come on! You can do this!" John inspected the bullet hole, and the tears started streaming down my face. I sobbed and brushed my fingers across his face as John turned to speak Magnussen. "You stay with me. Don't you dare leave me alone. I need you," I said in an angry voice. I could hear people talking and moving around behind me, but all I could see was Sherlock. I felt strong arms wrap around me and haul me away I screamed and struggled. "Jamie! Calm down! Think of your baby!" John shouted at me as he pinned my arms down. I sobbed and clutched at my stomach while trying to take deep breaths. "She's going to pass out," John said to someone. I could feel the tunnel vision coming and someone pushed me to the floor and my head between my knees. "Breathe," John ordered. I pulled in a deep breathe and let it out. "Again," he ordered. I did so again, and my vision cleared. "I'm going to carry you downstairs, the paramedics have Sherlock, and they need us," he said and hoisted me into his arms.

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I was immediately taken to a room with an ultrasound machine and the technician smeared the cool gel on my abdomen. I looked desperately at the monitor until my baby appeared. "There he is," the technician said in a happy voice.

"Is he okay?" I asked.

"Looks healthy. Measuring correctly. Would you like a picture?" she asked.

"Of course," I said and grinned. My panic had completely dissipated. The baby was fine. Sherlock was recovering. They had had to resuscitate him, but he pulled through. I sighed as the girl handed me a black and white photo of my baby. "Do you know the father?" she asked.

"He's the man upstairs who go shot in the chest," I replied quietly.

"He's going to be fine," she assured me. "You're free to go." She handed me a tissue to wipe the gel off and I carefully stood and made my way out of the room. Lestrade was waiting for me. "Hey," I said and clutched the picture to my chest.

"Hello, He's still asleep, but he should be waking up soon. John is with him," Lestrade said. I nodded and showed him the picture. He took it and peered at it for a moment before handing it back with a grin. "And Sherlock is the father?" Lestrade asked slowly.

"Yeah. Surprise," I muttered. He chuckled and we continued on in silence. HE dropped me off with John and then made his way out of the hospital to write up some paperwork. "Let me see the little offspring," John said and reached for the picture. I held it out to him and he grinned as he looked at it. "So this is real, huh," John said. I nodded and yawned. "Sherlock is still out, but he's doing fine. Mary will be in in the morning. You should probably get some sleep," John said.

"I'll stay here," I said and gestured to couch. John sighed and shook his head. "Go home. Mary can bring you in the morning," John ordered.

"Fine. You call as soon as he wakes," I said. "That's the father of my child. Most important man in the universe."

"Of course," John said and held up his hands. I grinned and kissed his cheek before turning and making my way down the stairs. I hailed a cab and directed it to John and Mary's. It didn't take long for me to arrive, and I was soon sharing a bed with Mary Watson. "Look how cute it is," I said and held up the picture. Mary chuckled and rolled her eyes at me. "Absolutely adorable," Mary replied. I grinned and laid the picture on the table beside me. "Sherlock will be pleased," I said.

"I still can't believe it's him," Mary replied.

"I honestly can't either, but it happened and here we are," I replied.

"Does Molly Hooper know?" she asked.

"I assume yes," I responded. Mary giggled and sighed. "I'm so happy he pulled through," she said.

"I am too. We need our consultant detective," I replied. We both quieted down, and I soon fell asleep.

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Mary and I both immediately woke up and made ourselves presentable. We then climbed into their car and drove to the hospital that Sherlock was at. We were soon dashing up the stairs, and I spotted John on the landing above us. "Mary, Jamie," John said happily.

"Hey," Mary said.

"He's only just bloody woken up! He's pulled through," John said. I sighed in relief and clutched the baby picture to my chest. "Can I see him?" I asked.

"Janine is in there now, but you can when she leaves," John said with a tight smile. I nodded my head and walked over to a bench while John and Mary continued to talk. I looked down at the picture and my lips tipped up into a smile.

Janine soon left his room, and I immediately made my way inside. He had a cannula under his nose and his eyes were unfocused. "Hey, Shezza," I said and walked over to him. I sat in the chair beside his bed and his eyes focused on me. I held up the picture for him to see and he smiled widely. "That's our baby," I sighed. He reached his hand out to me and I grabbed his hand. "You can keep this if you want," I said and laid the picture down on the bed beside him. "Something to draw strength from or whatever." He let his eyes fall closed, and I checked the heart monitor for a moment before standing and leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead. "You sleep now, I'll be back soon," I said against his skin. I released his hand and walked out of the room with a slight smile tipping my lips.

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Several days later I found myself at Mycroft's and strolling through the halls with Patrick. "Let me see," he insisted for the hundredth time.

"There's nothing to see!" I sighed. He reached for the hem of my shirt anyways and lifted it. I grabbed it from his fingers and hiked it up to just below the edge of my bra. "See? Nothing," I sighed.

"I can see it," Patrick said and poked just below my navel. "Weird. It's super hard."

"Well yeah, there's a tiny human in there," I said and rolled my eyes.

"Jamie, Patrick, what are you doing?" Mycroft Holmes said from behind us. I turned and glanced up at the elder Holmes. "Pat here insisted I show him," I sighed and let my shirt drop.

"There's nothing to see," Mycroft sighed and rolled his eyes, leaning on his umbrella.

"That's debatable, Mycroft," Patrick said and smirked. I rolled my eyes at the both of them and continued walking. "Jamie, wait!" Patrick called. I paused and turned back to them. "Sherlock is missing," he said.

"How can he possibly be missing? I just saw him this morning in the hospital bed," I sighed and rubbed my face. I was worried, but not terribly so. Sherlock got into all sorts of trouble, bullet hole or no, and he always seemed to make it out. "Well, he's gone. John and Mary are looking at all of his usual places," Patrick replied. I sighed and pulled out my phone to call John. "He's just called me, Jamie. Says that I'm supposed to meet him at Lannister Gardens. We'll sort this out, just head back to Baker Street," John said as soon as he answered.

"Why Lannister Gardens?"

"Well, he says he has some important information for me. As soon as I know, I'll let you know," he replied.

"Okay, be safe," I sighed. We hung up and I pinched the bridge of my nose. "He's at Lannister Gardens. John is going to him right now. I need to get to Baker Street," I said.

"Okay, little sister, be careful," Patrick said and walked up to me. He kissed both of my cheeks and hugged me. "I'll see you soon," I said and kissed his cheek before turning and heading out to my car. I gave Mycroft a wave and drove down the long drive to the street below.


	40. Chapter 40

So, this is it guys. This is the very last chapter. A sequel will arrive when I have more material ;) only 1 year and 5 months and 10 days until the Christmas Special. Horray. I'll be graduated High School. Anyways, thanks for reading. It really makes me feel very happy to know that there are people out there who enjoy my writing. I want to thank my bestest friend for reading this and encouraging me to finish. She knows who she is ;)

Disclaimer: I don't own or claim any royalties over Sherlock BBC.

Chapter 40

Several months passed, and I was definitely starting to show now. Sherlock had dragged me over to his parent's house for Christmas, and I had sighed dramatically the whole way. "You can't be serious," I sighed when he walked around the car and opened my door with his hand outstretched.

"Just please, let me help you," Sherlock sighed. I rolled my eyes at him and took his hand. He helped me from the car, which was a terrible effort, and I immediately pulled my jacket closer around me. "Mummy is not going to bite your head off," Sherlock said. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and we started our slow progress inside. My back ached terribly and I was completely exhausted. We walked inside and Sherlock was immediately assaulted by hugs and kisses from his mother. I smiled and stood a bit out of the way with my arms folded behind me. Mr Holmes walked up to me and I stuck out my hand to shake. "Hello," I said nervously. He took my hand and shook it gently in both of his. "Happy Christmas, dear," he said and gave me a kind smile. I smiled back and he stepped out of the way so Mrs. Holmes could hug and coo over me. "My goodness, you're getting along aren't you," she said as she hugged me.

"Slowly and surely," I replied. My nerves swirled in my stomach and Sherlock placed his hand on the small of my back. "She's just about five months now," Sherlock replied. I grinned and nodded and Mrs. Holmes sighed happily. "Well come on over here dear, and have a seat. you must be exhausted," she said and lead me over to the couch.

"I'm fine really, I'd rather stand. It's a challenge to get up," I said and chuckled nervously. Sherlock hovered behind me and I glanced around the room. It was cozy and happy, and it felt like a home. Mrs. Holmes smiled and disappeared into the kitchen while Mr. Holmes moved to start the fire. "Do you need to use the loo?" Sherlock asked quietly in my ear.

"Now that you mention it, yeah," I sighed. He chuckled and pointed the direction. I waddled my way over there and relieved myself. When I returned, Mycroft had arrived. He studied me for a moment before smirking and looking away. "What are you smiling about?" I said as I waddled over to him.

"You look terribly uncomfortable," he said.

"You look terribly stuck up," I replied and walked past him. I made my way to the kitchen and watched Mrs. Holmes peel potatoes. She was a kind hearted woman, and she constantly radiated love and affection wherever she went. "So, I hear you're the source for the genius in your sons," I said as I leaned on the counter and cradled my stomach.

"I gave all of that business up for my boys," Mrs. Holmes replied.

"I… went to my second trimester ultrasound, and they gave me an envelope with my baby's gender in it. I was going to tell you all today," I said. Mrs. Holmes gasped happily and turned to hug me once more. "Oh, dear, this is exciting," she said. I hugged her back and glanced over my shoulder when Mycroft and Sherlock walked in. "John and Mary have arrived," Sherlock said. I smiled and waddled over to him. "Is anyone else coming?" I asked quietly.

"No one important," Sherlock replied.

"So can we tell them now?" I asked with an excited lilt to my voice. Sherlock rolled his eyes at me and handed me the envelope. "Go get them," I said to Mycroft and waved my hand. He sighed and turned on his heel to retrieve his father and John and Mary. We were eventually all crowded into the kitchen, and I leaned on the counter with the envelope grasped in my fingers. "Well, here goes," I sighed and started to tear at the paper. I opened it and pulled out a sheet of paper and glanced over it before looking up and smiling. "It's a boy," I said and grinned. Sherlock grinned and leaned over to kiss my cheek. "Now, we can talk baby names," I said to him quietly as everyone chattered about the news.

"Of course," he said and kissed me once more. I was hugged and kissed on the cheeks and my belly was touched at least a dozen times. Everyone eventually settled down, and Mary and John disappeared into the sitting room to talk. Mr Holmes remained with his wife to help in the kitchen, and Sherlock, Mycroft, and I walked outside. I sunk my hands deep in my pockets and the boys lit of their cigarettes. "Wish I could join you," I sighed and stared longingly and Sherlock's.

"No," Sherlock said and held his away from me.

"I'm not that stupid. I want a genius, not a drooling idiot," I muttered and rubbed my belly. Sherlock took a drag from his cigarette and bent his head to blow it up at the sky. "I'm glad you've given up the Magnussen business," Mycroft said.

"Are you?" Sherlock said.

"I'm still curious, though. He's hardly your usual kind of puzzle. Why do you…. hate him?" Mycroft said.

"Because he attacks people who are different and prays on their secrets. Why don't you?"

"He never causes too much damage to anyone important. He's far too intelligent for that. He's a businessman, that's all, and occasionally useful to us. A necessary evil- not a dragon for you to slay," Mycroft said and then took a drag of his cigarette.

"A dragon slayer. Is that what you think of me?" Sherlock said as we stopped a few feet from the front garden gate. I stood with my hands in my pocket and listened to them speak. "No, it's what you think of yourself," Mycroft replied. I heard the cottage door open and glanced over my shoulder. "Are you two smoking?" Mrs. Holmes said in a scolding voice. The boys both spun around and held their cigarettes behind their backs. "No," Mycroft said.

"It was Mycroft," Sherlock said simultaneously.

"Don't be smoking near that grandchild," she said and turned back into the house. Sherlock blew out a plume of smoke at the door before turning to face me. "Is it bothering you?" he asked.

"Nope," I said and shrugged. He nodded and took another drag before turning back to his brother. "I have, by the way, a job offer i should like you to decline," Mycroft said.

"I decline your kind offer," Sherlock said.

"I shall pass on your regrets,"

"What was it?"

"M16- they want to place you back in Eastern Europe. An undercover assignment that would prove fatal to you in, I think, about six months," Mycroft explained. Sherlock had started to raise his cigarette to his lips, paused and let it drop once more. "Why don't you want me to take it?" Sherlock said.

"It's tempting… but on balance you have more utility to me closer to home," Mycroft replied.

"Utility. How do I have utility?" sherlock scoffed.

"'Here be dragons'," Mycroft replied. I smiled and rubbed my face tiredly. "This isn't agreeing with me. I'm going in," Mycroft said and gestured with his cigarette before dropping it and putting it out with his foot.

"You need low tar. You still smoke like a beginner," Sherlock scoffed. Mycroft turned to head towards the door but paused at the handle. "And your loss would break my heart," Mycroft said. Sherlock, who was taking a drag of his cigarette, choked and coughed. "What the hell am I supposed to say to that?" he choked out. I let a small smile show on my face as Mycroft turned around. "'Merry Christmas'?" Mycroft suggested.

"You hate Christmas," Sherlock reminded him.

"Yes, must be something in the punch," Mycroft said with a puzzled look. I grinned at his pretending manner. "Clearly. Go and have some more," Sherlock said. Mycroft turned and headed inside and Sherlock and I turned back towards the gate. "I'm glad you declined that offer," I said quietly.

"I would have missed the… birth," he said.

"And I would have murdered you in your sleep," I replied. He chuckled and took another drag, finished his cigarette. He dropped it to the ground and scraped it out as he released a plume into the sky. "Don't drink the tea or punch," Sherlock said as he walked back inside.

"Why?" I asked. We walked into the sitting room and saw John fretting over an unconscious Mary. "Don't drink Mary's tea," Sherlock said as he grabbed his coat and scarf.

"Oh, or the punch," he said. He checked his dad's breathing before walking into the kitchen. He checked his mom's breathing and Mycroft's before turning to face Bill Wiggins. "Did you drug my pregnant wife?" John asked.

"Relax, Wiggins is an excellent chemist," Sherlock replied.

"I calculated your wife's dose myself. Won't affect the little one. I'll keep an eye on her," he said.

"He'll monitor their recovery. It's more or less his day job," Sherlock said.

"What the hell have you done?" I asked.

"...A deal with the devil," Sherlock replied. He began putting his gloves on while John paced around nervously. "Please tell me you haven't gone completely bonkers," I sighed.

"I assure you, I am sane," he replied. "Now, you can either remain here and assist Wiggins in taking care of everyone, or you can accompany John and I."

"I'm going," I said. Sherlock nodded and grabbed the Mycroft's laptop from under his hand and handed it to me. "Ah, here's our lift," he said and glanced up at the ceiling. I could hear a helicopter approaching, and I swallowed down my nervousness. We walked outside and Sherlock took my hand. "One false move and we'll have betrayed the security of the United Kingdom and be in prison for high treason. Magnussen is quite simply the most dangerous man we've ever encountered, and the odds are comprehensively stacked against us," Sherlock explained in his rapid voice as we all paused to watch the helicopter land.

"But it's Christmas," John said indignantly.

"I feel the same," Sherlock said with a smile. He turned and saw our expressions and his smile fell. "Oh you mean it's actually Christmas," Sherlock said. "Did you bring your gun as I suggested?"

"Why would I bring my gun to your parents' house for Christmas dinner?" John scoffed. Sherlock grabbed the edge of his coat and held it out. "Is it in your coat?" Sherlock asked.

'Yes," he replied and took his coat back.

"Off we go, then," Sherlock said. He began to lead the way down the path. "Where are we going?" I asked.

"Appledore," he replied.

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We were soon facing the dragon in his den. I stood beside John a few feet behind Sherlock, who was facing Magnussen. Magnussen was sitting on a white leather couch, sipping from an expensive looking glass. "I would offer you a drink but it's expensive," he said in that skin crawling voice. Sherlock sits down beside him on the couch and beckons to me to bring the laptop. I tried to walk as calmly as possible, but my rising terror wasn't going to let that happen. I handed Sherlock the laptop and he flashed me a gentle smile before laying it down beside him on the couch. I waddled back to John and took a few deep breaths. "Oh, it was you," Sherlock said as he saw what Magnussen was watching. It was a video of when John was in the fire at saint Jame the less Church. I could see the panic and desperation on Sherlock's face as he raced into the fire. "Yes, of course," Magnussen said. "Very hard to find a pressure point on you, Mr. Holmes."

"Mm," Sherlock replied. John turned from my side and walked toward the video. I tracked him with my eyes and listened intently to Magnussen and Sherlock. "The drugs thing I never believed for a moment," Magnussen said. "Anyway, you wouldn't care if it was exposed would you?" Sherlock quirked his mouth and shrugged. "Your damsel in distress," Magnussen said. John turned back to face Magnussen and Sherlock, and I could see the anger on his face. "You… put me in a fire… for leverage?" he said in a furious voice while walking towards them.

"Oh, I'd never have let you burn Doctor Watson," Magnussen replied and then sat up so he could place his drink on the table in front of him. "I had people standing by." I glanced between Magnussen and John before slowly walking closer. I paused a few feet away still and stood with my arms behind my back. 'I'm not a murderer… unlike your wife," Magnussen continued. John stared at him for a moment before his gaze shifted to Sherlock. Magnussen stood and walked towards the video. "Let me show you how leverage works. Doctor Watson," he said. He put his finger on the glass and wiped away the video. "For those who understand these things, Mycroft Holmes is the most powerful man in the country…. aside from me," he said as he turned back to us. "Mycroft's pressure point is his junkie detective brother, Sherlock." He walked back towards the sofa. "And Sherlock's pressure point is his pregnant friend, Jamie McConnell, and his best friend John Watson. And John Watson's pressure point is his wife. I own John Watson's wife…. I own Mycroft," he said and his gaze locked onto Sherlock. "He's what I'm getting for Christmas." He gestured to the laptop and Sherlock gruffly slid it towards him. "It's an exchange, not a gift," Sherlock said.

"Forgive me, but…. I already seem to have it," Magnussen said as he clutched the laptop to his chest. Sherlock stood and walked to stand beside me, facing Magnussen. "It's password protected. In return for the password, you will give me any material in your possession pertaining to the woman I know as Mary Watson," Sherlock said as Magnussen continued to stroke the laptop.

"Oh, she's bad, that one. So many dead people. You should see what I've seen," Magnussen said.

"I don't need to see it," John said.

"You might enjoy it, though," Magnussen replied. "I enjoy it." John swallowed but held his gaze. He then nodded and I shifted my gaze to Sherlock. "Then why don't you show us?" Sherlock said nonchalantly.

"Show you Appledore?" he said and placed the laptop beside him on the couch. "The secret vaults? Is that what you want?"

"I want everything you've got on Mary," Sherlock said fiercely. Magnussen began to snigger and rub the back of his head. I glanced at him and then over at John, who had a sour expression on his face. "You know, I honestly expected something good," Magnussen said.

"Oh, I think you'll find the contents of that laptop.." Sherlock began, but Magnussen cut him off.

"... include a GPS locator. By now, your brother will have noticed the left, and security services will be closing on this house. Having arrived…. they'll find top secret information in my hands… and have every justification to search my vaults. They will discover further information of this kind and I'll be imprisoned. You will be exonerated, and restored to your smelly little apartment to solve crimes with Mr. and Mrs. Psychopath," Magnussen said. He looked at John and I followed his gaze and saw John's jaw clench in anger. "Mycroft has been looking for this opportunity for a long time. He'll be a very, very proud big brother," Magnussen continued. He finished his drink and replaced it on the table. "The fact that you know it's going to happen isn't going to stop it," Sherlock said.

"Then why am I smiling?" Magnussen said. Sherlock remained silent, and I swallowed thickly. "Ask me," he prompted.

"Why are you smiling?" I finally spoke up.

"Because Sherlock Holmes has made one enormous mistake which will destroy the lives of everyone he loves… and everything he holds dear. Let me show you the Appledore vaults," Magnussen said and slowly began to stand. He lead the way to a set of wooden doors and turned back to us. "The entrance to my vaults," he said and turned back to pull open the doors. I studied the room, and took a deep breath. It was a white room with bare walls and a single metal and leather chair on a raised platform in the center. It was a brightly lit chamber, and the light seemed to make the man framed by it even more harsh and monstrous. "Okay- so where are the vaults?" John asked.

"Vaults? What vaults? There are no vaults beneath this building," Magnussen said. He sat in the chair and gestured around the room. "They're all in here," he said. I finally understood, and I swallowed thickly as Magnussen leaned forward and touched his fingers to his temple. ;They're in my mind palace, you know about those, don't you Sherlock?" Magnussen said. Sherlock swallowed and opened his mouth slightly. "How to store information so you never forget it- by picturing it. I just sit here, I close my eyes," he said and paused to close his eyes. "...And I go down to my vaults. I can go anywhere inside my vaults… my memories. I'll look at the files on Mrs. Watson. " He began miming running his fingers along a row of files and selecting one. He laid it across his lap and opened it. I ignored his commentary on what he was seeing in his mind, and focused on Sherlock. Sherlock's expression was unreadable, and I swallowed thickly. "You see?" said Magnussen finally.

"So there are no documents. You don't actually have anything here," John said after he cleared his throat.

"Oh, sometimes I send out for something… if I really need it… but i mostly remember it all," Magnussen said while glancing at his watch.

"I don't understand," John said.

"You could have that on a t-shirt," Magnussen replied.

"You just remember it all?" I asked quietly.

"It's all about knowledge. Everything is. Knowing is owning," Magnussen said while looking at Sherlock.

"But if you just know it, then you don't have proof," I said.

"Proof? What do I need proof for? I'm in news, you moron. I don't have to prove it- I just have to print it," he said and stood from his chair, buttoning his jacket. "Speaking of news, you three will be heavily featured tomorrow- trying to sell state secrets to me." HE tutted us and then looked at his watched again. "Let's go outside. They'll be here shortly," he said. He lead the way out of the room and towards the glass doors. "Can't wait to see you arrested," Magnussen said. I stepped closer to Sherlock and grabbed his hand. "Shezza, do we have a plan?" I hissed. John followed Magnussen out onto the patio. The sky was darkening as the day turned into early evening. Sherlock remained silent, but I could see the despair on his face. I slowly pulled him outside, my hand gripping his tightly. "You just know things. How does that work?" John was saying to Magnussen. Sherlock and I paused just outside the door, our hands still clasped together. "I just love your little solider face. I'd like to punch it," Magnussen said to John. "Bring it over here a minute." John glanced at us, and I saw Sherlock give him a tiny nod. I grimaced at him and pulled Sherlock closer to my side. "Come on. For Mary. Bring me your face," Magnussen encouraged. John stepped closer and I forced myself to watch. "Lean forward a bit and stick your face out," Magnussen ordered. John cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. "Please?' Magnussen said with a smirk. John did as he was told and Magnussen began chuckling. "Can I flick it?' Magnussen said. John snorted and lowered his head, shaking it a bit, before resuming his position. "Can I flick your face?" Magnussen asked. John pursed his lips and leaned forward. Magnussen flicked his face several times and John blinked instinctively. "I just love doing this," Magnussen said. "I could do it all day." He chuckled and looked over at Sherlock and I before turning back to John. "It works like this, John. I know who Mary hurt and killed. I know where to find people who hate her. I know where they live; I know their phone numbers. All in my mind palace- all of it," Magnussen explained while continuing to flick John's face. "I could phone them right now- and I will… unless you let me flick your face." Sherlock and I glared at him dangerously, and I released his hand so I could clench my fists tightly to my side. "This is what I do to people. This is what I do to whole countries…. just because I know," Magnussen said and then straightened up. "Can I do your eye now?" John turned his head a bit before looking back. "See if you can keep it open," Magnussen said and flicked his eyebrow. John blinked and Magnussen repeated the flick. "Come on. For Mary. Keep it open," Magnussen encouraged.

"Sherlock?" John called.

"Just… let him," Sherlock sighed. I could hear the defeat in his voice, and I grimaced. "Come on. Eye open," Magnussen said and resumed his flicking. "It's difficult isn't it? Janine managed it once. She makes the funniest noises." I began to search the sky as I began to hear the sounds of a helicopter approaching. "Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, and Jamie McConnell. Stand away from that man," Mycroft's voice was heard over the speaker of the helicopter. I glanced at Sherlock and saw him look down at the ground. "Here we go, Mr. Holmes!" Magnussen said over the noise.

"To clarify: Appledore's vaults only exist in your mind, nowhere else, just there," Sherlock shouted to Magnussen. We walked up to stand at John's side, and the spotlight blinded me. "They're not real. They never have been," Magnussen replied. Sherlock nodded and looked down at the gorund again. The wind whipped around us, and my coat billowed open. I gasped an tightened it close to my body once more, swiftly buttoning it it. "Sherlock Holmes, Jamie McConnell, and John Watson. Step away," Mycroft ordered. I turned to look at Shelrock. "Shezza, what do we do?" I called.

"Nothing! There's nothing to be done. I'm not a villain. I have no evil plan. I'm a business-man, acquiring assets. You happen to be one of them!" Magnussen shouted back. I met Sherlock's intense gaze, and saw his mind racing. "Sooy, there's no chance for oyu to be a hero this time, Mr. Holmes," Magnussen shouted.

"Sherlock Holmes, Jamie McConnell, and John Watson, stand away from that man. Do it now," Mycroft ordered.

"Oh, do your research…" Sherlock said as he looked up from the ground. He stepped around John, reached into his coat pocket and grabbed his pistol before stepping away from us. "I'm not a hero…" Sherlock shouted and raised the pistol. "...I'm a high-functioning sosicopath." I could see the rage clear on his face, and a small smile was brought to my lips. "Merry Christmas!" he shouted and pulled the trigger. The bullet impacted in the center of Magnussen's skull, and before he even hit the ground Sherlock threw the pistol away and raised his hands. "Get away from me! Stay well back!" Sherlock shouted at John and I.

"Christ, Sherlock!" John shouted desperately. We both raised our own hands, and I looked up towards the helicopter. "Stand fire! Do not fire on Sherlock Holmes! Do nott fire!" Mycroft shouted into the microphone as armed guards surrounded us on the patio.

"Give my love to Mary. Tell her she's safe now," Sherlock called to John before his gaze swept to me. "You keep our son safe. You can have everything I own. Take it all. And make sure he knows I love him. With everything I have. Jamie, I love you." I let out a sob, and tears dripped down my face. I hastily wiped them away with my bicep and nodded at him. "I love you, too. So very much," I called back. He took one final look at us before turning and sinking to his knees in front of the marksmen.

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John, Mary, and I were in a black government car, on our way to say our good-byes to Sherlock. He wasn't being incarcerated per se, but he was going away for a very long time. I swallowed down my rising fear, and rubbed my belly as I looked out the window. We approached a private jet, and I immediately spotted Sherlock standing beside his brother. We climbed out and immediately approached him. John and I stood a few feet back, side-by-side, as Mary approached Sherlock and hugged and kissed his cheeks. I smiled slightly and she waddled back to us. Sherlock glanced between John and i before turning to his brother. "Since this is likely to be the last conversation I'll have with John Watson… would you mind if we took a moment?" he said. "And then I need a few moments with Jamie." Mycroft nodded his head and lead the way around the plane. I kissed John's cheek before taking Mary's hand and following Mycroft. Mary and I stood together, and I watched looked out across the tarmac. "How are you holding up?" Mary asked quietly.

"I'll be fine," i said softly and rubbed my belly.

"Your sun will know who his father is. Don't ever forget that," Mary said. I smiled and nodded at her and she smiled back. "At least your daughter has a friend to spend her whole life with. They'll be thick as thieves," I said and grinned. Mary grinned back and I sighed. Mycroft watched us silently and I met his gaze. "You are aware that you'll have to help me with this offspring," I said and gestured to my large stomach. Mycroft grimaced and Mary chuckled. "It's true. Uncle Mike may even have to babysit," I said. Mycroft scowled at me, and Mary wiped tears from her eyes. "I can't imagine that," she sighed. Sherlock and John walked around the nose of the plane and I waddled myself over to Sherlock. "We'll just be a moment, Uncle Mike," I called in a singsong voice as I took Sherlock's hand. Sherlock raised his eyebrows at me and towed me along. "I know it's going to be hard for you. I know you'll put up with sleepless nights and endless screaming. But it will be worth it. Our son will have the best childhood. He has a fantastic mother," Sherlock said as he turned to face me. He reached out his hands and held my large stomach. I smiled at him and sighed. "I have no idea what to say," I muttered.

"How about a declaration of love and adoration?" Sherlock suggested nonchalantly. I rolled my eyes at him and reached up to cup his cheeks with my palms. "I love you. So very much. Our son loves you. Please don't ever forget that you are loved. And dear God, develop a filter for that mouth," I said and gave him a lopsided grin. Sherlock grinned back and pulled me closer. My belly bumped into his and he sighed. "There seems to be an intruder," Sherlock said.

"He's kicking you," I said softly. Sherlock looked up at me and smiled. "Can I feel?" he asked hopefully.

"Maybe," I said. I grabbed his right hand and guided it to just below my belly button. "Just wait," I said softly. Sherlock gazed down and his hand and gasped delightedly when he felt a kick. I grinned at him and watched him crouch down to speak to my stomach. "Don't tell your mummy this, but i plan on teaching you my ways. I need someone to carry on my business," Sherlock said. I giggled and he pressed his lips to where he felt the kick, before rising to his full height. "I won't ever stop thinking of you and him. Don't forget me. Teach our son kindness and loyalty," Sherlock said. I nodded and grabbed his cheeks once more. I pulled him closer and pressed my lips to his. He kissed me back and wrapped his arms around my back. We kissed for a few moments before he pulled away. "I love you," he said quietly.

"I love you, too," I sighed. He kissed me one last time and gave a parting kiss to my forehead before turning and approaching the jet. I watched him climbed the stairs and head inside. John and Mary joined me and we watched Sherlock's jet taxi out onto the tarmac. I rubbed my face with my right hand and watched as the jet gained speed and slowly lifted into the air. Mycroft climbed into his car and we remained where we were, watching Sherlock leave. I turned my head when Mycroft climbed back out, his phone pressed to his ear. "That is simply not possible," Mycroft said. I raised my eyebrows at him. "What's happened?" I asked. Mycroft frowned at us before opening his mouth to speak. "Moriarty," he said. I sucked in a deep breath and Mycroft climbed back into his car to call Sherlock back. Mary looked over at John and spoke what we were all thinking. "But he's dead. I mean, you told me he was dead, Moriarty," she said.

"Absolutely. He blew his own brains out," John said.

"So how can he be back?" Mary asked.

"Well, if he is… he better wrap up warm." I said and smirked as I watched Sherlock's plane descend. "There's an East Wind coming."


End file.
